


Two Stags and A Hen Walk Into A Bar

by mellyb6



Series: And Then There Were Four [9]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinks at the bar, Hen Party, Mati, Multi, Paintball, Sleepovers, Stag Party, Sushis, Taking no bullshit, Threesome - F/M/M, dance lessons, nosy friends, salsa - Freeform, spa and massages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9419714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellyb6/pseuds/mellyb6
Summary: It's Constance and d'Artagnan's hen and stag parties. A weekend in the life of Aramis, Porthos, Anne and the kid.





	1. Anne

A salsa class was the last thing Anne would have expected. It was a surprise when Porthos offered it the day before. Even more surprising that he offered to take only her, saying that Aramis would stay at home to look after Mati. An unexpected surprise that she gladly accepted. A date to fill her Friday night which would have otherwise been spent alone in her appartment.

 

Their first date. Her first date with only Porthos, that is. But without the anxiety that going out with someone for the first time could trigger. Because it's Porthos and there was a smiling emoji in every one of his texts when he asked her out. And besides, Anne now feels wonderful whenever she's around him and they're open about everything. About their feelings.

 

After their fight the previous weekend some time just the two of them was needed as well as wanted. Anne may know Aramis like the back of her hand, she has so much to learn about Porthos. Every new thing that she discovers makes her more thankful she's been brave and perhaps crazy enough to embark on this adventure with her boyfriends.

 

Especially since this one and a half hour of dancing has been exceptionally fun. Porthos is a fantastic dancer, even when he claims he can't follow the rhythm or that the steps are too intricate. She's the one who stepped on his feet more than once and clung to his arms much more than she should have. The moves are hazy in her mind now since she could hardly concentrate on anything but Porthos' bright smile and the way he laughed whenever they almost tripped over one another. It wasn't so often; he's really talented. It must have been her fault. Maybe they also bumped into other couples. Anne doesn't remember. She doesn't quite mind.

 

The music stuck in her head, the sweaty skin on the back of her neck, the wobbly feeling in her legs as she stands still in her heels are reminders enough of the great time they've spent together. Anne is also thankful for Porthos' arm around his waist while they wait for their sushis to be ready for take-out. He wouldn't let her collapse.

 

Instead, he's chatting about work and about what he could use in his own classes, humming some of the tunes. His hand splayed on Anne's hip and the fingers rubbing from time to time. Now that he can, he's almost as physical with her as he is with Aramis. Tactile and crowding her personal space and sometimes kissing her simply because he can and that Anne gets a thrill out of it.

 

Her heart is still high from the workout but Porthos is also not helping her settle down. She's not complaining whatsoever. By all means, she's delighted by the offer to come home to dine with him. And probably Aramis who will steal some of their food. Anne is also delighted with Porthos' closeness.

 

How sensual he was while they were dancing. How his muscles moved under her fingers when she was holding his arm. How he wiped his face with his towel and then shook his head and drank half his bottle of water. How transfixed Anne had been for a second and thus forgot she was also thirsty. And then regretted it when the new song started and she didn't manage to get a drop of water for herself.

 

Her face must have been the same one she's displaying right now in the sushi place. Staring intently. So much that Porthos has to dip his head and smile at her.

 

“What is it?”

 

“What?” Anne shakes _her_ head now, closes her eyes and meets his smile with her own. “Oh, I....I was just thinking that I had a lot of fun tonight.”

 

“Yeah, so did I. Next time I get free tickets I'll let you know. If you want.”

 

“That'd be nice. But....Aramis?”

 

Porthos dismisses it with a wave of his hand. He lets go of her waist to go get the food and she misses it at once. Anne is feeding on attention perhaps as much as she is on actual nourishment because Porthos is so sweet and attentive and whenever he's around her she feels safe, loved and appreciated. The same as with Aramis but growing, always growing. And thanks to Porthos, she's learning to love Aramis differently. More than she already did. With new thoughtfulness and she couldn't do it with only one of them. It'd be bleak.

 

Of course Aramis is her best friend. She likes to think of him this way. And yet they needed to magnify everything else that was on their heart. Anne has never been more glad of her decision.

 

“Aramis came with me once. A long time ago,” Porthos explains on their way home. “He liked it okay because it was me but he isn't crazy about traditional dancing. Too technical for him. On a dancefloor, though, it's another story entirely.”

 

“The only traditional dancing we would do when Mati was a baby was slow-dancing in the living room. I don't even know if it can be called dancing. We hardly moved.”

 

“Like you did when you brought us to this jazz club on our first date?”

 

Anne chuckles at Porthos' cheeky grin. Very boldly, with barely any boundaries between them anymore, she bumps into his side and he looks at her with pure amazement.

 

“You don't like jazz, do you?” she asks. A question that doesn't require an answer.

 

“......Nope.” Porthos scrunches his nose then smiles apologetically. “But you do and once in a while, it's nice to see you enjoy yourself as much as you did back then. You deserve it.”

 

They're pressed closer together waiting for a light to turn green and Anne is all but mesmerized by the dimples and the honesty in his eyes. The flirty tone. How this Porthos she's getting to know now that he is her boyfriend is different from the one who was only Aramis'. Now there's no holding back with her and she's not just a friend or his stepson's mother. She's a woman that he definitely finds attractive and seductive.

 

He's keeping her. He's keeping them both.

 

“Besides,” he goes on, “'mis said you could waltz so I figured you might like tonight. You know, technical stuff.”

 

“You were right. I had a blast. Even though the two have nothing in common and I haven't waltzed in years.”

 

“'Mis said you tried to teach him.”

 

“I did. He gave up quickly.”

 

“Maybe I'd like it more. I can't guarantee I would but we could trade. I teach you the moves from tonight correctly and you teach me how to waltz.”

 

Anne can't decide if he's kidding or not. She's a terrible teacher: Aramis quit after twenty minutes or so. But there's no trace of mockery on Porthos' face when he turns around after he's opened the door to his building. His interest seems genuine and Anne could pass out. From exhaustion and hunger but also because of how lucky she is in this relationship.

 

“Is that a date then?” she dares ask and Porthos blinks at her fluttering eyelids and bright red cheeks. He has to come closer and kiss her.

 

“It most certainly can be.”

 

Anne feels like she's melting. In his arms and their warmth and the strong hands enclosing her face. The fingers brushing her hair, tickling in the most pleasant way. The roughness of his skin against hers and he rubs her cheeks so slowly that Anne sighs against the hot lips on hers. With her eyes closed because it's almost too incredible to believe it.

 

She's happy. So incredibly happy.

 

Happier when they're reunited with Aramis, lounging on the couch, clearly doing nothing but waiting for Porthos to be back. His eyes sparkle with surprise and joy when he realizes his boyfriend isn't alone.

 

“I convinced her sushis with us were better than without us,” Porthos says, holding the door for Anne, watching her struggle to take off her heels. Aramis perks up.

 

“Sushis?”

 

“Didn't you eat already?”

 

“You don't need to be hungry for sushis,” Aramis scoffs, craning his neck to kiss Porthos hello after he's put the food on the coffee table.

 

“Sure, cupcake.”

 

“Was it fun? Are you pros now?” Aramis wants to know and Anne only shrugs, treading to the couch and to him and the light kiss on her cheek. He holds on to her hand until she sits down next to him.

 

“Porthos perhaps, but I wasn't very good.”

 

“Don't listen to her. She did great.”

 

“I'd ask you for a demonstration but I don't want Mati to wake up.” Aramis tips his head in the direction of the closed door and that's something they can all agree on. “You'll show me tomorrow night!” he decides instead.

 

Anne doesn't suppose she'd be comfortable with an audience to her poor skills yet it's Aramis an she trusts him with her life. She isn't afraid of much with him. She likes how he's threaded their fingers and how he carries on his conversation with Porthos who mentions the waltzing they talked about downstairs. Aramis also wants to watch this happen. Because it would be _extra_ fun. And besides, he's beyond himself that things are going well between Porthos and Anne. But he still wants to go on dates with the two of them at once.

 

“And private lessons at the gym are always worth it,” he adds with a grin and Porthos rolls his eyes when he hands her glass of wine to Anne.

 

“I know what you're thinking, 'mis.”

 

“Because you're not?”

 

“We were talking about dancing,” Porthos reminds him.

 

“Sure. When hasn't it led to anything else? When it's just the two of us?”

 

“Do you....do you have sex at the gym?” Anne has to ask, intrigued by the exchange and Aramis' pointed looks. If so, they're wilder than most of what she'd imagined. And she's imagined _a lot_.

 

“Oh yes,” Aramis replies proudly. He clicks his tongue and there's a tinkle in his eyes.

 

They _are_ wilder. Anne sips on her wine, can't help smiling and feels her cheeks brighten.

 

“Which doesn't have to happen with you, if you don't want to,” Porthos is quick to reassure her.

 

“Of course not! I was just mentioning it, like this, because you never know but dancing is enough, Anne.”

 

“Well.....You never know indeed. One day I might....like to experience the whole thing. But really? The gym? Where people come every day?”

 

Aramis squeezes her hand, grins more widely because he loves how secure and bold she's becoming with them even if her practical and sensible side always shows up in the end. They never really talked about their sex lives when they weren't dating so Aramis has no idea how she would behave when faced with this aspect of her life. And her minimal experience means that it's a constant struggle to come to terms with what she wants. Not so much anymore. Not with them.

 

“That's definitely a date then,” Porthos jokes, shaken by her answer a bit yet getting used to Anne being comfortable or willing to discuss anything with them. Important things.

 

He sets down plates and cutlery on the table so they can finally eat. Anne is starving after their evening out. Light-headed by wine on an empty stomach and the food is excellent. Sitting cross-legged on the carpet so that nothing gets messy. Aramis demanding to be fed because he refused to leave his spot on the couch. From where he is, right behind Anne, he can play with her hair. Even though she complained that it was dirty, it's the most relaxing position to be in and she never wants him to stop. She's close to moaning, whether because of the sensation or because of the dinner.

 

Porthos is the one obliging his boyfriend's request, sharing half of his food. Soon, he also has to rise from the floor to get thank-you kisses, tasting soy sauce and ginger right on Aramis' tongue. Listening to the thank yous which sound a lot like I love yous.

 

Truth be told, Anne didn't need much convincing to join them tonight. The men have many nights by themselves so when they ask if she's up to come and do things with them, Anne is likely to say yes. An ocean of opportunities and happiness has opened in front of her and Porthos and Aramis are so in love. With each other. With her maybe. She knows she loves them more for letting her be there.

 

“Are you braiding my hair?” she wonders out loud, trying to turn her head. Aramis tuts.

 

“Yep. I've some, Mati has some, too, but I guess they'll be gone by the time he wakes up....”

 

“His hair can't be tamed,” Anne cuts him off.

 

“No, but it's perfect so don't you dare have it cut,” Aramis warns her right back.

 

“Did I say anything about that?”

 

“Not lately but I know you.”

 

“Oh yeah! You've small braids!” Porthos realizes, coming closer to his boyfriend's hair to study it. Aramis beams up. “Really tiny ones. You're very pretty.”

 

“Thank you. Mati did it. I'd make you some but your hair's too short.”

 

He makes to touch Porthos' head but his boyfriend jerks back and Aramis chuckles. So does Anne.

 

“We watched Barbie and....” Aramis begins to explain.

 

“Again? Didn't he watch it with your father already?”

 

Porthos shrugs. The thought of Tréville watching this particular cartoon makes him want to laugh out loud.

 

“Well, he wanted to watch it again to know if I'd be better than Barbie at fencing.”

 

“Would you?”

 

Aramis glares at Porthos' stupid question and pushes against his shoulder. But misses.

 

“It's a cartoon. I'd probably be, though. But I said I didn't know so Mati said he'd have to watch it again with _you_ to have your opinion.”

 

“Traitor,” Porthos groans. He's been watching too many cartoons since living with the little boy.

 

Aramis only giggles at Porthos' discomfited face. The nicest and cutest sound. Followed by whining when Porthos ruffles his hair before plopping down on the couch, too stuffed to eat more. Aramis goes to snuggle at once, leaving Anne's hair half undone.

 

The long locks of blond hair woven together unweave quickly when Anne shifts to face them both. Aramis' head on Porthos' shoulder and his arm holding on to Porthos' waist. His hand rises and falls with every breath that Porthos takes. It looks cozy. So Anne is comfortable staying where she is, looking at them. She's eaten too much too fast as well. It's making her drowsy and she can't help yawning.

 

“Are you staying the night, too?” Aramis genuinely asks.

 

It wasn't part of the plan either but now she's here and if it were him, he'd be too lazy to go back to his place. Anne looks at him with wide eyes, her mouth still open.

 

“I don't have anything to wear.”

 

“I've tee-shirts you can borrow,” Aramis offers without hesitation. Porthos hums, curls and uncurls some of his boyfriend's hair around his fingers. Aramis shifts closer in response.

 

“I wanted to take a shower, too.”

 

“We've got one here as well,” Aramis can't help but chuckle this time.

 

They've got a very large one at that, and soothing water which runs down aching muscles and smooth skin a few minutes later when Anne has agreed to sleep there. Like two perfect gentlemen, they've let her use the bathroom and the shower first. She could have used the bathtub but then she may have fallen asleep in it. The shower gel smells like the men, it's as if they're in the room with her, surrounding her and even alone with her thoughts, Anne has to smile, giggling a little at everything that's happening. The fantastic turn her life has taken.

 

They also have big, fluffy towels that she likes to wrap around herself and breathe in. Except it can't top the tee-shirt Aramis hands her, stepping into the bathroom and proceeding to brush his teeth. As if her being there was the most natural thing in the world. Is it possible to be more at ease with him than they used to be? Maybe. Anne nonetheless manages to get dressed for the night without showing a hint of extra skin that he couldn't already see when she was simply wearing her towel. A true feat, he declares.

 

Aramis tastes of minty toothpaste while he teases her, right before he hugs her tightly, all serious now. Not talking anymore. Breathing softly above her and cradling her head to his chest. So lovable and attentive that Anne sighs again.

 

“I'm really happy, Aramis,” she blurts out. She feels the kiss on her hair and how he smoothes it.

 

“That's good to hear. You look it. I'm glad you had fun.”

 

“He's so....everything,” she says, for lack of a better description. It fits.

 

“Isn't he? We're lucky. I'm lucky you're with us. Like that.”

 

His face shines with honesty and care when Anne looks up at him. It's so easy to fall in love with Aramis. To love him. She's been doing it for years.

 

Sharing a bed is something they used to do as well yet never at night, or not since Mati was born. It's warm in the men's, with Porthos who insists that he needs to sleep on the edge or else he'll wake her up in the morning. Some people have to work, even on Saturdays.

 

So Anne ends up nestled against Aramis because she wouldn't get in between them. They hardly saw one another today. Those are restraints which don't feel as such. It's more Anne testing and navigating the men's relationship and how she fits in. It's magical in how easy it is sometimes. Rewarding when they perfect and better their entire relationship.

 

Aramis' arm goes slack around her waist before she falls asleep. Too busy turning how well she is in her head. With his even breathing in her neck and Porthos shifting on the other side of the bed. Throwing sheets at the foot of the bed because three persons in the same bedroom, in the same bed, it's a bit too much body heat to handle at the same time.

 

* * *

 

With hair on her face and entirely too much space available when Anne turns around and stretches a little, she doesn't quite mind the muffled whispers filtering through the bedroom door which was left half-open. Porthos sort of woke her up when he was taking clothes out of his closest but she's not completely awake yet. She's in that state where she could fall back to sleep in an instant, even with the faint rays of sunshine finding their way into the room.

 

The sounds of Porthos trying to be quiet while having breakfast are a nice lullaby. The water running, the phone beeping, the chair scratching on the floor. Except somehow, Mati has also woken up. Far too early even though Anne has yet to see what the time really is. Too early for the boy who didn't stop at waking up and went to seek Porthos in the kitchen.

 

It's a cute dialogue which keeps Anne above slumber. The Spanish Mati is sticking to, in spite of Porthos replying in French.

 

“It's too early to be up, kiddo.”

 

“ _You're up.”_

 

“I'm going to work and you're not coming with me. You're going back to bed.”

 

“ _I'm not tired.”_

 

“It's hardly eight. I'd still be in bed if I could. Off you go.”

 

“ _I'm not tired.”_ Follows a lot of gibberish about eating chocolate cereal and watching TV but Porthos obviously fails to properly understand it.

 

“What? Can you say that again in French?”

 

“ _I don't want to.”_

 

“Well, I don't want to have to decipher what you're saying. Let's go back to bed.”

 

Anne flinches at the high-pitched squeal which follows: Mati whinning. Loudly.

 

“Hush. _Hush_ , Mati. You're going to wake Papá and your.....you're going to wake Papá.”

 

“ _I want to go to bed with Papá.”_

 

“If you're tired enough to go to bed now, yours will be good enough.”

 

“ _But, Porfos!”_

 

There's a lot more pleading and shrilling and Anne can't help chuckling. There's no going back to sleep now.

 

“ _Sssshhh. He'll hear you and then that'll be it,”_ Aramis mumbles next to her.

 

Turning on her side, rubbing one eye, Anne looks at him. His face buried in the pillow Porthos used during the night, taking so much of the bed. Then there's too much light in the room and the sounds of Porthos striding in.

 

“He's watching TV. It was this or him barging in. Sorry.”

 

“S'okay,” Aramis slurs. “Kiss.”

 

He feels around empty air until Porthos catches his hand before bending down to kiss Aramis' pouty mouth. Porthos stretches to kiss Anne's cheek. Her smile incidentally.

 

“See you later?”

 

Aramis grumbles something back, Anne nods and she believes Porthos has hardly had time to close the front door on his way out that her son is already padding to his fathers' bedroom. All excited but his face changes in a second once he realizes his mother is there as well. And Anne remembers the important detail they forgot to discuss the night before: Mati didn't know she was in the apartment and it's obvious she didn't sleep on the couch at all. That, Mati would have been used to and it would have been less of a surprise.

 

Instead of being shocked, though, he first bounces to her and her arms. He hasn't seen her since Monday and it was only for a brief moment that day, when they came to get him at Tréville's home.

 

“ _Mamá!”_

 

He's hot in her arms, heavy against her, sprawled on her lap. Aramis groans at the accidental hit he's received.

 

“ _Is it a surprise?”_

 

Anne hesitates, looks at Aramis above the little boy's head. They'll have to talk about better planning sleepovers later but now, there's no time to do that.

 

“ _You could say so, yes. I was there for dinner last night but you were already in bed and Papá and Porthos said I could spend the night, too.”_

 

“ _Porfos slept on the couch, Mamá?”_

 

“ _What? Why?”_

 

“ _If you slept here with Papá?”_

 

“ _Oh, no, hmmm....”_

 

“ _Hey, Mati, buddy,”_ Aramis intervenes. “ _Do you remember when we told you how much we loved Mam_ _á_ _, Porthos and I?”_

 

“ _Yes. Because you kiss! On the mouth!”_

 

“ _We do, yes. Do you remember what other thing people can do when they're in love?”_

 

“ _Get married? Like d'Artagnan? Are you getting married?”_

 

“ _No! No! Porthos and I signed other papers last week.”_

 

“ _With the_ lawyer _,”_ Mati stresses the word, obviously proud to have learned something new. He's adorable and Anne relaxes, realizing she was a little nervous about how to handle the new situation with the boy. They should have been more careful. There's no going back now.

 

“ _Exactly. Listen, Mati.”_ Aramis gathers the boy in his arms and holds on tight. _“When people are in love, they can share a bed. Like grandpa and grandma do. Or me and Porthos.”_

 

“ _And Mamá?”_

 

“ _Yes. Because we love her.”_

 

Mati ponders the notion, looks at his parents, looks at the bed and shakes his head.

 

“ _Three people?”_

 

“ _Yes. Like we're doing right now! You, Mam_ _á_ _and I!”_ Aramis explains on a cheerful tone. He hasn't stopped smiling since Mati entered the room. Either at him or at Anne and she feels greatly safe in this warm and fluffy bed. With people she loves.

 

“ _But Porfos is big!”_ Mati exclaims, still bewildered. _“And the bed is small!”_

 

“ _Do you think so?”_ Anne finds her voice again, forever amazed at Aramis handling the child's never-ending questions. Eager to make him comfortable with the adults' new life and dynamics. Never missing a bit. Smiling. Always smiling above their son's curls and the random braid still in it. _“I find it rather large.”_

 

“ _......Maybe. So Mamá is staying all the time? To sleep?”_

 

Mati has obviously more pressing issues to settle than how many people sleep in the same room. He's interested in things which would make his life greater.

 

“ _I'm afraid not. I love Papá and Porthos and you but the place would be too crowded.”_

 

“ _With all of Mam_ _á'_ _s clothes. Can you imagine?”_ Aramis chimes in.

 

Anne glares at him. Mati takes the question very seriously.

 

“ _Mam_ _á_ _has a lot of dresses!”_ He gestures widely with his hands and grins cheekily.

 

“ _You're one to talk, Aramis. With all of your shoes.”_

 

“ _Which is precisely why Mamá having her own place is great. More room. And besides, you get days alone with her when you stay over there.”_

 

“ _Yes.”_ Mati reaches for his mother, clutches her neck. He's missed her and she's missed him, too. _“Still, you could stay, Mam_ _á_ _. Are you coming to the pool?”_

 

“ _I'm not, honey. That's your and Papá's activity. I'm going to a grown-up pool with Constance later today.”_

 

“ _To the wedding?”_ Mati shrills, too close to her ear. _“You said I'm coming with you to the wedding!”_

 

And the boy is quite excited by the prospect. He's getting a little tuxedo to wear and he will even have a bow-tie and he finds it very fancy and if he could, he would wear it to school.

 

“ _Wow, Mati,”_ Aramis chastises him, drawing back a bit. _“Do you think you could speak without shouting? The wedding's next month. Today is just a party for d'Art and Constance's friends. There won't be any children.”_

 

“ _Mmmm......okay,”_ Mati doesn't seem totally convinced. _“You're eating breakfast, Mam_ _á_ _?”_

 

“ _This, I can gladly do.”_

 

It satisfies the little boy who shimmies to the foot of the bed, jumps down as hard as he can and darts back to the living room and the couch. Anne understands the need for carpets. It must sound like a stampede to the downstairs neighbors.

 

She sighs, picks at the bedsheet on her lap, gazing at Aramis getting ready. That's a lovely sight in the morning. As much as Porthos looming above her when he kissed her hello. Even if it was only her cheek. That's how they've always done it. Until she'd go and brush her teeth and she'd feel comfortable enough. They may have overlooked what it would lead to when Mati would find her in the appartment but all in all, it's worth it if it means she gets to have gorgeous men in her line of sight right upon waking up. Strong and supportive men.

 

“ _What is it?”_ Aramis has to ask at one point. She's been staring. In awe. But he's only putting a tee-shirt on. It's no big deal.

 

Anne smiles kindly.

 

“ _You're amazing.”_

 

“ _Why, thank you.”_

 

“ _I mean it, Aramis. With Mati. The way you explained it. I would have failed.”_

 

“ _Nonsense. We have some experience explaining unusual living conditions. I couldn't do it by myself. And_ I _am still amazed you managed so many months alone in Madrid with him. He understood this. He'll understand now.”_

 

“ _Thank you. I'm still glad now you're here with me. For everything.”_

 

“ _Always.”_

 

Aramis blinks, kneels on the bed and steals a kiss. Anne gasps around his mouth, can't help thinking about morning breath yet Aramis doesn't pull back until Mati demands his hot chocolate. So her kisses in the morning mustn't taste or smell so horrible and it's another reason for her to be thankful for these wonderful times.

 

It feels like the perfect start to a perfect day. With not a care in the world. She's blessed with a fantastic family.

 

* * *

 

It's almost too much of a nice early June day to spend it inside. Breakfast in the living room with so much morning sunshine bathing the table is energizing and so is the walk in town they take together. A detour before Anne goes back home and the boys go to the swimming pool. It's been too long since they did things just the three of them, like they used to before Aramis met Porthos. Even when Anne moved to Paris, they refrained from doing it too often, careful not to upset the balance they were trying to maintain back then. Anne has missed it. Their times as a family. Although nowadays, she wouldn't mind for a second if Porthos was indeed with them. In fact, it would perhaps be better. Now that they are aware it wouldn't trigger any jealousy or frustrate anyone. Anne finds joy and comfort in this.

 

They have a new balance, one which might prove more intricate to manage, if the issue of Anne spending the night and Mati questioning it is proof enough. But they'll overcome it. They did earlier. Anne is positive Aramis is correct and they'll always find a way to make everyone comfortable. Their son included. It's the most important after all. She feels light and invigorated with the constant knowledge that all of them can go out and have fun. Whether they do things as a couple, with the child, without the child, the three of them.

 

Being with Mati and Aramis feels like old times meeting new ones, given that later today, Anne will see both Aramis and Porthos again. But Mati won't be around. They'll have their own private time with their friends. With each other and nobody else at one point.

 

They will never perfectly balance it but they can probably handle whatever situation is thrown at them if they stick together. They're stronger together.

 

And for all the kisses and the hugs Mati gives her to say goodbye, Anne is very much looking forward to the afternoon. Constance had the most brilliant idea to book and actually privatize a spa for her hen party. The prospect of the jacuzzi, of the sauna, of the massages and the manucure have been on Anne's mind for the entire week. It's been forever since she was able to treat herself to such luxuries.

 

She's also forever grateful that Constance has been such a fantastic friend from the very first time they've met. Witty and able to stand her ground to anyone. So down to Earth while working in a sparkling and seemingly fairytale environment. All these gowns and haute-couture dresses made Anne's head turn when she visited Constance's workplace back when she needed a gown for the opening night at the museum. Everything was so beautiful and it looked so delicate. Right up Anne's alley, that's what her friend had claimed.

 

Out of the fifteen or so girls invited to the party, Anne is only acquainted with a few of them. A cousin she briefly met once, a long time ago. And a couple of colleagues she met when she was sampling for evening gowns and they all ended up going out for drinks later in the night. Fun women who are chatting about their upcoming vacations in distant and sunny lands. Lounging on the rooftop terrace of the spa. In nothing but their swimming suits. It's a bit too cold for Anne who retreats inside quickly. To the bubbling water in the jacuzzi and the bubbles of another kind entirely in her glass close by. She feels soothed by the massages and her nails are such a pretty shade of blue that she doesn't dare go back into the water in case it ruins her hands.

 

But she's content and even amused to listen from the side to the seemingly very interesting conversation about Constance' honeymoon. About Contance's wedding night.

 

“So,” Constance starts, sinking in the deck chair by her side after she's managed to escape the sniggering and giggling. “Is it safe to assume that by now, you won't be bringing anyone to the wedding?”

 

Anne opens her eyes at the blunt question, Constance peering at her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Not embarassed for a second. Neither is Anne. Not exceedingly at least. She's aware the question which was still unanswered after so many months would come back again today. And she's okay with people knowing about her romantic life these days. She's nonetheless a little bit nervous to have to explain it. Not because it's Constance and sometimes Anne feels that Constance and her are a friendship match. Because Anne would probably be nervous to tell anybody. Her heart is already pounding, even though there is no apparent threat.

 

“I'm coming with Porthos and Aramis.”

 

“I know that. And your son. We're booking a babysitter because there'll be five or six of those kids. What I meant is, you're not bringing a date, are you?”

 

“I'm.....coming with Porthos and Aramis. They're my dates, Constance. And not just as friends if that's what you were going to ask.”

 

Constance's next question thus gets lost in her throat. Her mouth is still open yet no sound comes out. Anne looks down then quickly up to find her staring. Studying. Anne holds the gaze, she's done nothing wrong but her own mouth feels dry while she waits for a reaction and she downs her cup of champagne. Then the cup of mint tea one of the managers put on the table by their side.

 

“Shut. Up!” Constance eventually says, realizing that her friend isn't joking. “Are you serious?” She huddles closer to close the gap between their deck chairs, smiling now. “How did that happen? Weren't you dating that guy from the museum?”

 

“It didn't work out.” Anne picks at her towel, but can't help smiling and feeling her body relax because Constance is reacting exactly like Aramis suspected. There's nothing to fear when it comes to Constance. “And then I.....I stupidly kissed Porthos, which should have ruined everything but....”

 

“Do you _like_ Porthos?”

 

“I do.” This, Anne cannot say without smiling even more. “He's tough but he's also incredibly soft and fun and yes. I like him.”

 

“Okay. So you kissed him? And then what?”

 

“We talked and we realized we had to do something about our feelings so now we're dating and it's been great so far.”

 

“How long have you been going out?”

 

Anne chuckles at the onslaught of questions, which would likely be the same for any man she would talk about with Constance. Her friend makes it seem so normal to be with two men that Anne feels braver about speaking out. She had no valid reason to be nervous.

 

“A month or so.”

 

“A month?” Constance slaps her own thigh, outraged. “And he didn't tell me anything? Oh, he's gonna hear about it!” This, Anne has no problem imagining. Aramis must know it's coming his way. “How is it? I mean, you said it's great but how is it? Really?”

 

“Overwhelming, sometimes? It's a lot to adjust to. I used to be involved with no one and now I have two men who care for me and it's almost as exhausting as being a mother. And at the same time, it's fantastic. Really. Absolutely amazing. I can't imagine my life any other way now. I haven't felt this happy in a very long time.”

 

“They're great guys.” Constance reaches for her hand, gives it a strong squeeze and then swears that she may have messed up the manucure. She hasn't. “I hope it works out for you, Anne.”

 

Anne hopes so, too. For all of their sakes. She's trying not to think too much about a distant future and the problems or issues which could arise at anytime. Because then she's be wasting precious present time with her family and the people that she loves.

 

“How does it work?” Constance can't help pressing. “Do you all go out together? Do you take turns?”

 

Anne chuckles at the intrigued question. She's both amused and relieved.

 

“Sorry if it's nosy but when I met you you were kind of set on not having any romantic life, not that you were so thrilled about it, and now you have two boyfriends! That's kind of a leap!”

 

“Do I hear someone is involved with two men?” a woman Anne doesn't know too well chimes in. A sister-in-law. Constance has three of them. Her name hasn't stuck and the intrusion isn't quite welcome. Anne doesn't want to talk about her personal life with people she doesn't know. Especially when they sound so interested by something that is none of their business in the first place.

 

“I am,” she says nonetheless, raising her hand bravely, while being as uncertain as she was before telling Constance. She hates it. Not being able to stand up firm and unfaltering like Aramis or Porthos would do it.

 

“Oh, that's interesting,” the random sister-in-law decides, sitting next to Constance. “I've always wanted to know what it felt like to sleep with two men. Do tell.”

 

“What? No. I'm not talking about that!”

 

Who does this woman think she is? In the face of the piercing and gossiping eyes, Anne remembers that if this aspect of her life, her dating two men, is something new and she has yet to learn how to handle how the world views her, she's also not one to take any bullshit, like Aramis once said. Before he had to put money in the swear jar. So Anne sits up straight and refuses to budge.

 

“Why not? We were just discussing Constance's wedding night. No need to be shy. Come on.”

 

“Come on yourself,” Constance replies. “If you want to know what a threesome feels like, go ask my brother to find someone so you can have your own. And don't come telling me about it later.”

 

“Pfft. What's the point of talking about it if we can't get any details?”

 

Because she's making Anne slightly uncomfortable? Because the look in her eyes is making Anne uneasy, in spite of her resolve? Because Anne feels like she's being mocked and that she doesn't talk about her sex life with people who aren't part of it. Especially not with people she's only met an hour before. Anne wouldn't even talk about it with Constance.

 

“Because we weren't talking about that. We were talking about dating,” Constance says, glaring at her sister-in-law, sticking with Anne.

 

“You're dating the two guys you're shagging?” It's such a sharp shocked gasp that Anne starts to despise the woman. For the judgmental tone and all the nagging.

 

“I am.”

 

“And they know about it?”

 

“They do. They're a couple themselves. We all know what we're doing. That's how we're building our life. It's not easy everyday but it makes us happy. There's nothing else to discuss.”

 

“You're dating a couple? Oh, honey.”

 

Anne doesn't hate easily but this woman, she hates now. On the spot. For the patronizing tone and the sneering. So full of herself. Anne won't stop staring at her and she clutches her hands on her lap, trying very hard not to grip the deck chair and thus ruin her nails.

 

“You probably shouldn't get attached,” the despicable woman goes on. “It won't last.”

 

“It'd better,” Constance's voice isn't friendly anymore and that's a comfort. “And can you stop? I didn't invite you here for this.”

 

“We're just talking! Relax!”

 

“You're insulting my friends.”

 

“Oh. Do you know them?”

 

“Sure, Aramis is d'Art's best man. From fencing.”

 

“The one who comes with a small child sometimes? I thought he was gay.”

 

“Well, he obviously isn't! If he's dating Anne!” Constance finally snaps. “Seriously, go get a manucure or whatever. I wasn't aware other people's sexuality was such a big deal for you.”

 

“You think you're dating a man who already has a boyfriend _and_ a child? No offense but....”

 

She seems to have no intention of dropping the issue and it's making Anne so mad, she can feel herself shake with anger. This was such a nice day and this woman is simply ruining it.

 

That's the tipping point. Anne can keep her cool in almost any circumstances, she knows how to handle things calmly but really, sometimes people are just too stupid. Some can't take a hint and they think it's their responsibility to judge others. If she wasn't as well-brought up and polite as she is, Anne would say that Constance's sister-in-law is a bitch.

 

Anne cuts her off before she can go on with her stupid and ridiculous reasoning about things she's clueless about. As if she could go around giving life lessons to strangers.

 

“That's enough.” Anne's body and her voice don't tremble as much as she expected. Not at all, actually. “I don't know you and you don't know me. You have no right to come and insult me. That's what you're doing, yes and don't talk. I'm not finished.” The woman draws back, closes her mouth. Offended but keeping quiet. “Mati is _my_ son. All his parents are dating and he has three of them and I don't see what entitles you to give life advice about things you are ignorant about. I don't care what you think. I only care that if you take so much time schooling other people then _your_ life might not be as perfect as you'd expect and yet you see no one criticizing it. And now, I refuse to discuss things any longer and I actually think it's better if you leave us alone. Today is about Constance. Not me. You're ruining her day by insisting on stuff which don't concern you. Mind your own business and let us be.”

 

Anne hasn't stopped staring at the nasty woman, her heart racing but she won't back down. This is her life. Nobody else's.

 

She must command respect or authority because Constance's sister-in-law frowns, having clearly not expected this come-back. But then she looks at Constance and her warning gaze and stands up, huffing. She doesn't even try to whisper the “bitch” directed at Anne that everyone hears. Anne doesn't mind it. It's Constance's day. She won't be the one ruining it. Instead she sighs, reaches for something to drink and finds her glass empty.

 

“I'm sorry,” Constance apologizes, grabbing Anne's hand again and this time not caring if it messes up her friend's nails. “You just got a glimpse at our family dinners. Fun times...She's....It would have caused drama if I hadn't invited her today.”

 

“You don't have to justify yourself, it's fine.”

 

Anne closes her eyes, aware of some of the other girls looking at them but she doesn't quite mind this either. She stood her ground and really, she shouldn't have to argue to justify her choices. It's unfair. Nobody is challenging or questioning Constance for choosing to build a life with d'Artagnan. Hopefully not everyone is like that nasty woman.

 

“I heard drama! It wouldn't be a girls' party without some drama!”

 

One of Constance's friends plops by her host's side. With a more cheerful attitude than the previous occupant. Anne is met with a warm smile and kind eyes. They've met before. They were talking about volunteering in some shelter earlier. Or rather, Anne was trying to convince her that there was literally _no_ time in her life to come and help. Which the girl didn't appreciate one bit. Yet here she is again.

 

“Your sister-in-law's a bitch, Constance.”

 

“That's stating the obvious. At least the two others are much nicer. You don't choose your extended family.”

 

“I know we didn't agree before but I just wanted to tell you that I've friends who live like you do,” Constance's friend tells Anne. “And they've just had a baby. Which makes things even crazier if you want my opinion but they're over the moon so good for them. Anyway. It was surprising when I learned about how they live because that's not what society wants us to be but in the end, who cares? As far as they're concerned, it means more love and more support. And no jealousy whatsoever. I guess it must be the same for you, am I right? Fuck the norm. Your lifestyle doesn't define you. I mean, my grandma thinks I'm a lesbian because I haven't had a boyfriend in forever and that I'd rather be by myself. I don't quite know what I am, and honestly? I don't care. My life's great as it is so I don't see why I'd need a man to feel fulfilled. Society pisses me off.”

 

“Sylvie's rather ahead of her time, sometimes,” Constance concludes, patting her friend's back.

 

She chuckles watching her friend being so passionate and in spite of her feisty tone, her words and beliefs are calming. Anne feels more relaxed and thankful. Confident in her choices.

 

“And besides,” Constance adds, “all I want is for you to be happy, Anne. If it takes the two of them then so be it. I'm just thankful it means we won't have to add another meal to the wedding bill and that's something to celebrate. Do you want more champagne?”

 

“Tea will be enough, thank you.”

 

They cheer with two glasses of champagne and a cup of hot tea and even when Constance leaves them because she can't ignore her other guests, Sylvie stays. Going back to trying to convince Anne to help at the shelter and it's true, who Anne lives with, who she loves, they're just a part of her. They're not all that the world should focus on. It doesn't concern it. Anne is much more than them. She existed before them. Too busy back then already to do any intensive charity work. Giving money, she's always done it, but Sylvie doesn't find it enough. Arguing with her who can be very convincing is an excellent distraction.

 

Anne can't forget Constance's sister-in-law. Nobody could. Not so soon and while they're both in the same room. But she's just a tiny fraction of this uncomprehending and narrow-minded world and her boyfriends were right. It can hurt at times but Anne will confront it and she will indeed, take no bullshit.

 


	2. Porthos and Aramis

Mati is helpfully setting the table when Porthos comes back from work. Carefully handling the forks and the napkins and the bread. With his damp curls that Aramis gave up on blowdrying after too much fussing and squirming. It's not cold enough to get sick because the boy is walking around with wet hair.

 

Aramis' hair is in the same state, it smells like the swimming pool and so does his skin when Porthos kisses him hello. Aramis stops in his tracks for a hug. He doesn't let go until the microwave beeps in the kitchen. Porthos has taken a shower at the gym so _he_ smells fresh and it's settling and Aramis loves him. So he gives him another kiss until Mati nudges his side to let him know he's done his part of the job so can he please go play now?

 

“He wouldn't stop whinning about lunch so he's already eaten,” Aramis explains.

 

“I'm not blaming him. I'm starving. Anne's gone?” Porthos asks because the absence in the apartment is unmistakable, in spite of Mati's loud rummaging for toys.

 

Aramis nods, shakes his hands because the plate was too hot to handle without pot holders. Porthos shakes his head, watches his boyfriend bite his lip and blow on his fingers. The dish sort of slides on the table and Aramis looks up with sheepish eyes.

 

“It's only the third time this month,” Porthos jokes. Then he helps himself to a large portion of food because Aramis will survive and do it again soon anyway.

 

Mati climbs on a chair on the other side of the table. Determined to be with the adults even if he's not eating anymore. He has his new puzzle to assemble. Although it's more of a 3D castle and he's having a hard time figuring it out. Which makes it even more entertaining or so he's told his parents. He made one like this in Spain already, which is why he begged to have one in Paris as well. He plays on his own for hours with it so Aramis and Porthos are thankful for the distraction.

 

“She said we'd see her tonight anyway,” Aramis says to justify Anne's absence Not that Porthos seemed overly saddened by it. He's happy he gets to have lunch with Aramis. Normal Saturdays. Some pieces of an old routine that are still in place. Not everything has to change drastically.

 

“Right. We'll need to....hmm, talk about this morning though. Later.”

 

“What about this morning? Oh, yes, that!” Aramis realizes after Porthos has cocked his head towards the little boy. Too engrossed in his puzzle to pay attention to the adults' conversation yet you never know.

 

Tired from the dancing and caught up in the fact that Anne had hardly thought twice about staying overnight, Porthos had forgotten the issue of Mati. Up until the child woke up, thus waking up the entire household in tow. Porthos has no idea how to explain what is going on to Mati. That his mother slept in the same room as them. Not in simple terms that the boy would understand. Thankfully, Aramis has already dealt with it.

 

“We talked about it. After you left. With him and with Anne. We're good. He understood.”

 

“Did he?”

 

“Sure. He understands love and affection. And she's anything but a stranger. If she had been one....”

 

“It wouldn't have happened in the first place.”

 

Sometimes, Porthos' reasonings are so in sync with Aramis', as far as Mati is concerned, that he feels comforted in his belief that he is learning to be a good parent. That it was foolish to be nervous or to think he would be rubbish at it. He's fantastic at it. Or so Aramis keeps on saying.

 

Because Porthos is eager to explore this great relationship they're building with Anne. To rejoice in all the good stuff it's brought him and them, as a couple with Aramis. Yet he's also absolutely certain that he can't forget about the little boy. He's everything to his parents. His biological ones. He's an extension of them and Porthos has liked Mati from the very first moment he's met him. His well-being is as important -if not more- as the adults'.

 

They wouldn't have brought somebody else in their life to upset the balance. Aramis agrees with that. He wouldn't have wanted anybody else anyway. He pats Porthos' thigh gently, swallows some of his food and finishes eating with only one hand because he won't let go of his boyfriend.

 

“He's good, Porthos. No need to worry about it. He just thinks the bed is too small with you in it. Because you're too big,” Aramis laughs and winks and Porthos squints, slightly offended. He shoves Aramis' leg under the table, which only makes Aramis laugh even more and Mati looks up. “And by big I'm sure he meant very strong. Isn't Porthos very strong, Mati?”

 

“Yes! Did you use the big weights today, Porfos?”

 

“Not today.”

 

“Did you dance?”

 

“I did.”

 

“With Mamá?”

 

“That was last night, kiddo. This morning was just work. It wasn't as fun.”

 

“Mamá slept with you last night, Porfos. In your bed.”

 

“I know that. I was there.”

 

“Oh yes!” Mati giggles, asks for more juice and is told to go grab the bottle in the kitchen. The pieces of the castle that are assembled precariously stay up when he scrambles down his chair.

 

“Kids accept and understand far more stuff than we'd give them credit for.”

 

Aramis can see Porthos is still in awe at his son's acceptance. Mati is an amazing boy as he is even though it's a priority for his father that he manages to understand what is going on around him. Not all of it, he doesn't need to know that much, but the basics of it. How life could change. Will change. The small things which will be more common from now on. Aramis won't accept any less.

 

Porthos smiles, squeezes the hand laying on his thigh and the weight which had been on his shoulders for a few hours is lifted effortlessly.

 

“I love you, 'mis.”

 

Aramis manages to lean in for another kiss before the boy is back with his glass and the bottle for his drink. And after, he goes back to his castle, only drinks a few sips, forgets about the glass entirely and won't touch it again for the rest of his time playing.

 

Aramis is annoyed by it, watching Mati from the kitchen doorway. Leaning against the doorframe and blowing on his mug of tea. But the child is talking to himself, thinking out loud. Creating stories about dragons and the architect of the castle who did a poor job. And a random wizard who would make everything okay again. So he can't speak out and tell Mati to finish whatever he's requested to drink. It would ruin the moment.

 

Instead, he feels Porthos' presence behind him before he even touches him. Steady breathing and a warmth crowding Aramis' space and he sighs happily, leaning back against his boyfriend this time. Porthos drops his head onto Aramis' shoulder, wraps one arm around his chest and somehow manages to still drink his coffee without spilling any. Aramis holds on to the naked skin of Porthos' arm, never letting go. Only chuckling once Porthos blows on the loose curls tickling his face.

 

“I love you, Porthos,” he whispers.

 

He receives a cheerful hum as a response, deep and rumbling on his own skin and Aramis feels so incredibly at home. Even more so when Porthos kisses his neck, gets to kiss him properly after Aramis had turned his head.

 

“He's the best,” Porthos decides, looking straight at Mati in his bubble, oblivious to the rest of the world. Aramis can only agree. “I didn't think it would be so easy. To not have to worry about what he'll think if Anne stays with us some nights.”

 

“She's been spending quite some weekends here already.”

 

“Yes, but on the couch.”

 

“It's hardly made a difference to him, sweetie.”

 

Aramis rubs Porthos' arm, drinks some of his tea. He can feel his boyfriend's heart beat against his back. A nice, even rhythm which conveys how relieved he is. How in spite of how easy things seem, sometimes they are quite complicated and yet they always succeed in managing their life and it gives Aramis hope. So much hope.

 

“You're the best, too,” Porthos decides. “Explaining things to him. You must have been brilliant for him to get it so quickly. I'm glad we have you.”

 

“Team work, sweetie. You weren't there but if you had, you'd have done the same. And he'll have so much to learn that you'll get your own chance one day.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Like explaining where babies come from. You can have that. Or maths. I'm gladly letting you explain math stuff to him.”

 

“Right.”

 

Aramis giggles, his body shaking in Porthos' arms. Porthos kisses his neck again. Not so thrilled about all this explaining he might have to do in the future.

 

“Do you want to know what was bothering him the most? Apart from your largeness and how we could all fit in the bed?”

 

Aramis squirms at Porthos' fingers poking him in the chest. He's the one spilling some tea and cursing. So low that Mati doesn't hear it but it doesn't stop Porthos.

 

“You owe us one euro.”

 

“Leech.”

 

“Your rules, not mine, 'mis.”

 

Porthos is still feeling bitter about all the money he lost the first few months when he wasn't used to living with the child. He neved had to be careful with his words in his own home before that.

 

“How about I kiss you and we forget about it,” Aramis suggests instead.

 

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

 

“Is it working?”

 

“You bet it is.”

 

With a wide smile on his face, Aramis spins around so that Porthos' hand falls on the small of his back, clutching and dragging him closer. A much better kiss this time with no interruption and Aramis' silky lips rubbing against Porthos'. Taking their time, Aramis' hand cupping the nape of his boyfriend's neck. A myriad of tiny, soft kisses. Never ending except when Porthos chuckles at the sweetness and Aramis' tongue sneaks inside his mouth. Hot and sensual and Porthos groans, low in his throat before he kisses back and Aramis grabs his hair to anchor himself there.

 

Their noses are still touching when they stop to breathe. Aramis can't help pressing his lips to Porthos' slightly open mouth. Porthos' dark eyes are so full of love and profund desire and Aramis is at peace.

 

“What was is it then?” Porthos asks.

 

“Uh?”

 

“What was bothering Mati?”

 

Porthos gives a small laugh at Aramis' perplexed face. His eyes light up prettily when he remembers, shining brightly and Porthos could look at his face for hours on end and never grow tired. That's how much his world has zeroed in on his extraordinary boyfriend.

 

“He wanted Anne to sleep here every night from now. All of us in one place. That's nothing new, though.”

 

“Did he realize it would mean he would also stay here all the time?”

 

“Kind of. He wasn't really pleased we said no.”

 

“But, 'mis.....We're good as we are right now, aren't we?”

 

Underneath the cuteness of the innocent question lies the real issue of where the adults are going. It's one thing they'll likely have to address at one point. They all know where they stand for the time being. Weeks without Mati are needed for everybody. Anne also needs her time by herself. And no matter how much they like and appreciate time with her, the men love being just the two of them as well. Right now being the perfect example of that.

 

A date night with Anne followed by dinner with her and Aramis. Then Anne staying to sleep but being gone by lunchtime. An evening with their friends to follow when they'll be all three together and a few nights just with Aramis for the rest of the week is a great balance for the moment. Porthos is comfortable with that. There are changes that he enjoys but sometimes, it's refreshing to know it's only him and Aramis. More space to breathe. There's no need to rush anything. Nobody wants that.

 

“We're great as we are, sweetie,” Aramis assures him. “I, for one, don't see why we should change anything. It's going better than I could have ever hoped. One day at a time and you all the days of my life.”

 

Porthos snorts at how corny it sounds, but there's honesty in Aramis' words that he knows to be deeply true. Everything seems easier with Aramis, even when it isn't.

 

“I really like it when Anne stays the night,” Porthos confesses. He feels Aramis come closer, so flushed together.

 

“So do I. She's more radiant than I could ever remember her be. Sometimes I feel bad thinking I could have given her all that love years ago.”

 

“You did, cupcake. In your own terms. I didn't know her then but I don't think she was _that_ sad.”

 

“Maybe not,” Aramis shrugs, chewing on his lip. He's torn between thinking that he could have been happy with Anne all these years when Mati was younger like they are right now. But he may never have met Porthos in that case and that's a dreadful thought.

 

“And besides, the past's the past. Everything's swell now. You've got me, she's got us, I've got the both of you and fuck me if that isn't the craziest, the most insane turn of events I could have imagined. Actually, I couldn't have imagined _that_. Meeting you was a miracle.”

 

“Please, go on,” Aramis boasts, sparks tinkling in his eyes.

 

“No need to boost your ego.”

 

“On the contrary. It's either this or one euro in the swear jar. You said a bad word, too.”

 

Aramis grins, rubs Porthos' chest and snorts when his boyfriend curses again, under his breath.

 

“Fuck me.”

 

“With pleasure. But there's a child in the room with us. You'll have to wait until tonight,” Aramis promises, his sultry voice closing in on Porthos' ear.

 

“Shut up, you idiot.” But his breath catches anyway.

 

“An idiot that you love, remember?”

 

Porthos rolls his eyes, slaps Aramis' ass and untangles himself from their embrace to go check his phone and the text he's just received. He would have almost forgotten the time and when Flea was supposed to show up to look after Mati. Free babysitting even though he feels a bit bad about it. They're not talking just a couple of hours. They're meeting d'Artagnan and his other friends for paintball but then there's dinner with Constance and _her_ friends and really, Porthos has no clue when they'll be back.

 

Not that Flea seems bothered by it. She has so many activities planned for the boy and her (and for Charon when he'll be done with work and will join them) that time will most likely fly. If anything, she's delighted she's been asked to step in.

 

“Will we have to sleep here, though?” she asks after she's been told so many rules and given so many instructions she's forgotten most of them. Never mind, the boy and her will survive nonetheless. “I need to know so Charon can bring me some pjs if that's the case.”

 

“Why would you need to do that?”

 

“I don't know....If you guys decide to...I mean, if you want to....If you have better things to do than come back here. Because you could. I wouldn't mind.”

 

She struggles with voicing her question while Mati is so intently listening to the conversation that she doesn't want to say anything inappropriate. It would have been better if Porthos had answered her texts this morning but he didn't and she's stuck having to ask it directly.

 

“You're not coming back?” Mati interrupts, dreading the idea.

 

Aramis scoops him up in his arms. He's understood what Flea was trying to imply, so has Porthos, yet one puzzling morning is enough for the weekend. His son doesn't need to wake up in his home with none of his parents in it.

 

“We'll be there when you wake up, buddy. Porthos and I.”

 

“And Mamá?”

 

“Mamá doesn't sleep here every night. Remember?”

 

“Oh yes. But you do, Papá.”

 

“Yep. No worries about that.”

 

“Okay. Put me down. I show Flea my toy.”

 

“Please.”

 

“....Please.”

 

Mati trips on the way to the table, catches a chair to steady himself and urges Flea to his side to show her his almost complete masterpiece.

 

“We should be here around midnight?” Aramis hazards. “I don't know what d'Artagnan has planned but he said he wanted to party.”

 

“Sure. No problem.”

 

“There's food in the fridge.”

 

“We're taking him out to a restaurant,” Flea retorts and Porthos stops short of whistling.

 

“You'll be his favorite person if you do that.” He pulls her and her giggles in for a tight hug. “The best aunt ever.” Flea slaps his arm but appreciates the earnest compliment.

 

Her decision is followed by more recommendations about how to deal with Mati out for dinner. Up until Flea decides she can do this. That she's aware Aramis means well and is overprotective but she's a big girl and they'll make it through the day like champions.

 

So she urges the men to say goodbye and go have some fun of their own.

 

“And kick their asses!” she calls when they're almost out of the door.

 

The faint echo of Mati pointing out the swearing and its consequence follows them down the hallway.

 

Porthos clasps his hand in Aramis', chuckles at what must be going on in their apartment. And gathers that life is good. A cliché with the sun shining bright in the blue sky outside and Aramis breathing in deeply. His sunglasses on making him look like the happiest and most innocent tourist ever and Porthos loves it.

 

Good life indeed. Wonderful.

 

* * *

 

Flea would probably be proud of one of them in the end. Because what would have been the fun in being in the same team when Porthos and Aramis could shoot paint balls at each other? There's one or two times when Porthos aimed so precisely at his boyfriend that he couldn't believe Aramis ever said he knew how to shoot like a pro. Even if Porthos did witness it first hand in the past, perhaps having to wear the protective head gear and the bodysuit made it more difficult to hit moving targets than it was when they were at the fair last month and everyone begged Aramis to win them teddy bears.

 

Either way, Porthos was quite smug anytime he managed to take his boyfriend down. Or to take him down _again_ because Aramis claimed he didn't realize he'd been hit and fired back on Porthos. A shoot which clearly didn't count since dead people can't use their weapon. But the distraction enabled d'Artagnan to effectively hit Porthos right afterwards and take him out of that round.

 

It doesn't change the fact that Aramis is a sore loser, and not only at boardgames. His team may have won in the great scheme of things, Porthos hit him more often and that's a disgrace. Especially with the bruises Aramis can feel blooming on his legs and on his back.

 

Somehow, he even managed to get some paint on his neck and a few brown locks of hair are now a flashy bright pink and yellow. He pulls away when Porthos mentions it in the locker room, getting out of their suits. He doesn't want any help from his traitor of a boyfriend who took an exquisite pleasure making Aramis his prime target and made it the goal of his afternoon to assail him.

 

But as always with Aramis being fussy, it never lasts long: he can't keep a straight face on so when Porthos retaliates with more teasing, complimenting his new hair style and how Aramis made the most attractive man down in the park, there's a smile tugging at Aramis' lips.

 

“You still hurt me,” he mutters. He tries to swat Porthos' hand away again to tie his shoes. “I'll wake up all blue tomorrow, I can just feel it.”

 

“At least you didn't fall head first into the mud.”

 

“I hit a pretty big root that last time. I'm still hurting.”

 

“Do you want me to kiss it better?”

 

Aramis is already leaning forward, obviously wanting an actual kiss on the lips which will mend all of his physical pain. And the bruise to his heart as well, maybe. So Porthos gives him a light peck.

 

“I should be the one complaining that with all that dirt on my glasses, I couldn't see in the end,” Porthos mumbles against Aramis' lips but Aramis' smile only stretches in response and he's fine now. As long as they don't talk about _his_ hopeless game anymore.

 

Porthos tripping and landing in what should have been a small pond turned to mud was funny when Aramis made sure his boyfriend wasn't hurt or anything. Porthos is tough. It was quite entertaining to Aramis who had sat up in spite of being supposedly dead.

 

“You know, 'mis, you making fun of me only encourages me to make fun of _you_. How you shot that tree. I don't know which team it was on but perfect aim. Champion.”

 

“You got two men even with your ass on the ground. That was impressive,” Aramis decides to compliment him so the jokes will stop.

 

“Thank you,” Porthos winks cheekily.

 

“All I got were a few leaves. My dad would be ashamed.”

 

“Also you hit d'Artagnan, don't forget that.”

 

“My gun misfired!” Aramis groans.

 

“Sure, cupcake.” Porthos laughs and gives Aramis' hair a good tousle. “Hitting your own teammates. And the future groom at that. Shame on you indeed.”

 

“Yes, shame on you, Aramis,” d'Artagnan steps in. “It's a good thing we won or I might have had to find myself another best man.”

 

“You're all talk,” Aramis shakes his head, not biting for a second.

 

He's too busy admiring the view of Porthos stretching and then stooping to tie his shoes. A perfect view of his backside and after all the running around, jumping and tracking they did, Aramis wouldn't mind being alone with Porthos for a while. For a shower of their own. By themselves. Without interruptions. Any sort of exercise with his boyfriend makes Aramis kind of horny. Enough to disregard or at least surrender to the teasing. Aramis hates losing but when he's alone with Porthos, when they're together, when they're kissing and fooling around, nobody loses. Everybody wins.

 

Except that isn't an option right now. With all of d'Artagnan's friends around them. A few from fencing that Porthos may have met before and also some colleagues from the police force that not even Aramis knows that well. Whatever Aramis is thinking while watching his boyfriend has to be put on hold. Replaced by jokes about d'Artagnan because if it's his special day before the big day, it means he's never catching a break.

 

It's what a newbie would be subjected to although d'Artagnan is anything but one. For all that Porthos knows, he was a regular at the fencing club way before Aramis first moved to Paris. So whether it's the age difference or Aramis having made a best friend in d'Artagnan and knowing he can joke about pretty much everything with him, it never stops. Harassing him for the good cause. Porthos almost feels sorry for the man sometimes. But it's funny, he has to admit it. Especially now that d'Artagnan's colleagues are making it their duty to divulge anecdots which would have been better left unsaid.

 

Aramis is short of spitting beer at some point when they're at the bar. Waiting for the girls to join them. And being entertained with stories about their host as a young police officer. About him having to deal with the weirdest cases. Or about the first times Constance came to see him at the station and they made it a priority to embarrass the young man. Who is so smitten with his fiancée that he doesn't care about any of their jokes. It's because they're jealous of how lucky he is.

 

“I'm not jealous,” Aramis tells Porthos, leaning against the counter by his side. His cheeks are red but more from laughter and happiness than from his drink. He's hardly touched it. He does touch Porthos' hand softly, making the pads of their fingers touch and Porthos glances down at the shy display of affection. “Not jealous at all. I've everything that I need right here with me.”

 

“I knew you loved weddings but really, they do turn you even sappier than you usually are.”

 

“You love sappy me.”

 

“I do.”

 

“And you haven't seen me on an actual wedding day.”

 

Aramis sighs dreamily, drums his fingers against Porthos' palm. Porthos catches them and squeezes.

 

“And yet, for all of that, you wouldn't care if you never got one yourself.” He sips on his beer thoughtfully. Aramis shudders.

 

“I wouldn't make it through the day. It'd be a disaster. I'd cry all the time. And I don't need one. Sure it's one way to make love official but I'm quite satisfied of the way I did that with you. It was perfect.”

 

His lips brush Porthos' and he doesn't care if they're surrounded by people they don't know, people who may see what they're doing. Their relationship was obvious at the paintball facilities even to the men they were introduced to there. And it's not like Aramis has ever hidden his feelings. That'd be rather impossible.

 

“Still, I wouldn't mind a nice bouquet of my own,” he ponders and Porthos snorts in his face then chokes and coughs a couple of times.

 

Aramis pats his back absent-mindedly, complains about the pain he's still having in his lower back. Perhaps they should sit down.

 

“I'll give you a massage later,” Porthos promises instead. “And flowers, cupcakes. White if you want.”

 

Aramis cocks his head, fights the urge to laugh out loud at his boyfriend's silly face. That's something that he'd like to see Porthos do. It'd be too pompous, especially if he does so because Aramis mentioned he might like some. As a joke. He doesn't want anyone to feel obligated to buy him anything. Something that Porthos knows perfectly well. The massage though, that's free and Aramis has many memories of his boyfriend doing so. It makes him want to fast-forward to the moment they're going home.

 

“You're an angel,” Aramis replies nonetheless and Porthos bites his lip when they kiss again. Trying to stifle their laughter while doing so. It's a mess but it doesn't matter, Porthos wrapping one arm around Aramis' shoulders and bringing him closer until their foreheads touch and all is well.

 

Then Aramis drops his head to Porthos' shoulder but it shoots back up almost immediately because the door to the bar has opened and the sudden appearance of Anne in all of her magnificence has startled Porthos. Aramis groans at the shock.

 

“Ouch.”

 

He does stare, too, when he notices her. Glowing skin, red lips, extra wavy curls yet most of her hair is up. His favorite earrings, a pair he's bought her, a fantastic golden dress and heels which make her legs seem so long.

 

Aramis is staring so hard, he's not even trying to hide it. What was in his mind all these years for him to not see all this attractiveness and beauty shining out of her? He's so glad he gets to see it now. She's simply extraordinary.

 

So is her smile when she spots them. But she doesn't join them at once, letting Constance and d'Artagnan be reunited first for that joint party they were so adamant on having. Their little thank you speech is short and on point and it's not long before everyone is eating and celebrating and finally, finally, Anne is right beside the men.

 

A few minutes isn't enough for Porthos to have processed the beauty she's pulled off. Not that she has to try. He's always found her pretty. From that first skype call on a rainy October night one and a half year ago. When he was shocked he was speaking with Mati. Even then, he remembers having found her good-looking because only an idiot wouldn't be able to see that. Anne is elegance and refinement impersonated. Everything that she does is.

 

When she attends official events in evening gowns. When she's just woken up and her hair is tangled and there are bedsheet marks on her cheeks. When she wears oversized hoodies, old trainers and her seemingly dirty hair is in a ponytail. Porthos could watch her in anything and now he can without feeling guilty. It's a relief after so long so he sees no reason to ever stop.

 

“You look splendid.”

 

It's almost a gasp before he clears his throat and blinks. He swallows some beer to quench how shaken he is. In a good way. Anne only smiles more brightly.

 

“Since moving to Paris, I finally get to wear all these dresses I bought over the years and hardly touched.”

 

“And after that, you're still going to claim that _I_ have a shopping problem?”

 

Aramis raises an eyebrow, gazes at her in awe when she kisses his cheek hello and lets Porthos kiss her other one. Porthos is a little surprised to always hear that Anne had close to no life when she was in Madrid. It can't be true. It wouldn't make sense at all. He'll have to ask her about that. Nobody would spend years having almost no social life, regardless of how work and a toddler could take up most of her time. But for now, he kisses her cheek again, closer to her mouth and she only relinquishes her hold when she's handed something to drink.

 

A cocktail with no alcohol. She's already had too much champagne at the spa, she tells them. It seems that her afternoon was as entertaining as theirs. More, if she got to drink. They certainly didn't.

 

“By the way, I told Constance about us so I'll assume you can expect her coming at you soon, Aramis.”

 

Constance is busy catching up with d'Artagnan for now, enjoying his attention and talking with some other friends. Aramis is thankful for the heads-up because it's unavoidable.

 

“Did it go okay?” He still wants to know.

 

“She wanted to gossip as much as she could about it so yes, it went well.”

 

“Good. I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

 

“I wasn't worrying. Not with her. There was a problem with her sister-in-law but....”

 

“What? What happened?” Aramis cuts her off. “What did she say? Who is she? Do I need to cut some bitch?” He almost snarls, scanning the small crowd.

 

“Geez, chill, 'mis.” Porthos pulls him towards the empty booth where they all sit to quieten his rising fury.

 

Porthos wants to know what happened, too, though. The way Anne fidgeted when saying it was unnerving, despite her never-ending smile. He wants to protect her. Which seems ridiculous knowing how well she can hold her ground. Yet she's confided so much in them, so many insecurities about this part of their new life that Porthos needs to be sure she's all right and comfortable.

 

“I handled it myself,” she reassures them, playing with the straw in her glass. It's refreshing. They're both looking at her with deep concentration from the other side of the table and she feels safe. She feels immensily proud of how she stood up to that ridiculous woman, too. The men can hear it in her words and Aramis relaxes. Still clutches her hand. “She's just ignorant in spite of believing she knows everything. And I don't care what she thinks. She's nothing to me. I'd rather forget about her.”

 

“She's forgotten then. How was the massage?”

 

“Divine?”

 

“Nice. I'd be jealous but Porthos was just saying he'd give me one later so I won't be.”

 

Aramis tilts his head towards his boyfriend and Porthos bumps into his shoulder, listening to Aramis' laughter and sinking against the cozy leather of the booth. A nice spot to listen to Aramis' embellished tale of their afternoon. His wins, his few losses and his whining that he's in quite some pain. Anne is more amused than worried by the recollection. She's used to it.

 

“You might think us thick, 'mis, but I think you're doing this so we take pity on you and we _both_ give you a massage.”

 

“Now, that's a mighty good idea.” Aramis perks up at his boyfriend's suggestion and Anne almost doesn't blush catching Porthos' grinning eyes. She feels Porthos' foot sliding against hers under the table and that's a nice sensation.

 

Porthos dips his head and tries not to break eye contact but really, his heart is doing little flutters he doesn't remember having since the first times he went out with Aramis and it's making his stomach sing.

 

“I mean, look at my arm. It's damaged!” Aramis whines and rolls his sleeve to show Anne the patch of skin he believes has been harmed. She squints but can't really see anything wrong with it.

 

“What if giving you a massage hurts you more then?”

 

Aramis looks so deeply offended, perhaps even outraged by her joke that he draws back in horror and betrayal and Porthos holds his hand up for a high-five. Anne feels so completely fine, she's having the best time of her life with them.

 

“You are unfit of my love,” Aramis decides, huffing. He flinches at Anne poking him in the forearm to assess the level of “damage” he's been subjected to and then he gets caught in Porthos' hug and falls short of shrieking for his life. He'd almost bless Constance for interrupting them and thus saving him. Even if it's to blame him for not saying a thing about Anne.

 

“How could you not have told me before?” She sounds disappointed as Anne scoots over so she can sit next to her. But Constance is looking for more gossip because she's drunk quite a bit and she wants to know everything.

 

“You're not my mother,” Aramis scowls.

 

“Have you told your mother?”

 

“.....Not yet.”

 

“Still. You could have told me. It's been more than a month, Anne said!”

 

“And we wanted to keep it to ourselves before being harassed like we are right now.”

 

“That's because I love you and really, I've been like your mother since you first showed up, looking like a lost duckling.”

 

“More like a sister,” Aramis makes a disgusted face, scrunches his nose and Constance slaps the hand of his back.

 

“Ow!” He withdraws more into Porthos, eager for his protection this time.

 

“I'm not old!” Constance squeaks. Anne looks at her funnily. Constance sounds quite tipsy already.

 

“Who said you are?” d'Artagnan appears behind her, one hand on her shoulder and she wipes her head so fast she needs a moment to not be dizzy anymore.

 

“Aramis.”

 

“I never said such a thing! Although she's like 10 years older than you are.”

 

“That is _not_ true.”

 

“Aren't you like, 20?”

 

“Fuck off, Aramis. I'm 25.”

 

It's obviously a well-rehearsed banter unfolding before Porthos' eyes and his shoulders are shaking with delightful laughter. Aramis' face is a picture of joy in his teasing and d'Artagnan flips him off. Avoids the menu flying at his head and Constance deems it enough for now.

 

“All of that so we're not talking about the important stuff here.”

 

“What important stuff?” d'Artagnan wants to know and all of a sudden, Constance looks like she's the bearer of the best secret in the universe.

 

“They're all dating. The three of them.”

 

She swipes her hand over the table and her three friends, sounding dramatic and waiting for the appropriate reaction. Anne keeps on sipping on her orange juice, eyes down. Aramis is still holding on to Porthos, partically glued to him. Which is nothing new. D'Artagnan takes a moment to register and process the information. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to decide if it's yet another joke or not. Today, who knows?

 

“Are you kidding?”

 

“Nope, we are,” Aramis confirms and it fills his heart and his soul with pure bliss to be able to talk about it with his closest friends that he feels like he's floating in happiness. Anchoring himself to Porthos next to him and Anne's hand clasped in his. It was great when it was just the three of them in their bubble yet it's also thrilling to live their love and their life out in the open. To share it with others and to disregard whoever might think it's not normal. They haven't cared about that in a long time.

 

“How do you do that?” d'Artagnan looks confused. Constance shakes her head as if she knew all the answers to all the questions in the world. Aramis will make sure he remembers how she looked when she's drunk too much so he can tell her about it later. She'll never live it down. And never will he, if she decides to come after him again.

 

“Well, honey, they are all in love so they go on dates together. And sometimes Anne goes on dates just with Porthos. And then Porthos and Aramis are still doing their own lovey-dovey thing by themselves. And they get to be loved by more than one person and everybody is happy and it's wonderful.”

 

It's a poor rendition of what Anne must have explained to her when they were at the spa, but it's quite an accurate description in the end.

 

“I didn't know you could do that.”

 

“Neither did we,” Aramis admits. “But it was either giving it a try or ruining all of our lives so it was worth it.”

 

“It is,” Porthos adds.

 

“Yes, it _is_ worth it.”

 

“Well, good for you. Congratulations? I guess?”

 

“And good for us, too!” Constance chimes in again. “Less food to order for the wedding! What's that you're drinking, Anne?”

 

“Juice.”

 

“What?

 

Anne startles at the shrill too close to her ear and before she has time to react, Constance has bounced to her feet, pulling her fiancé along. And she's disappeared towards the bar.

 

“She's having fun,” Porthos comments, holds his glass up when she cheers from the counter. Aramis shrugs and finishes his glass.

 

“Who isn't? I'll get us some more. Orange still or something more daring?”

 

“I'll have pineapple this time,” Anne says.

 

Aramis' eyes sparkle, closing in on her face because he wants to kiss her. He hasn't kissed her enough today. She's spectacular and so at ease and she's his girlfriend and that's the most incredible thing that has happened to him in forever, meeting Porthos not being included in the list. Meeting Porthos is on an entire other level and nothing could compete with it. But being romantically involved with Anne and comfortable in their new relationship is so out of this world. Aramis adores it.

 

“You never cease to impress. I like it.”

 

He kisses her cheek and the corner of her mouth and Porthos watches the dreamy look in her eyes as their boyfriend strides away.

 

“Did you really not do any of that in Spain?” he asks out of the blue.

 

“Any of what?”

 

“Going out. Dating. Going out with your friends. I mean, I know you said you were busy with Mati but I'm sure there are babysitters in Madrid. People could have watched him while you were out living your life.”

 

Anne shrugs, not too saddened by what her life used to be. It was so full that she hardly had time to pause and think she was missing out.

 

“I was studying up until Mati was three. So that took most of my time and when I came back home and he was in bed, that's the only place I wanted to be as well. It was exhausting. I do have friends I went out with but not as much as you probably did. Once every few months was a miracle. Mostly when Aramis was with us and he could help with Mati. But even then, I felt better staying in with them.”

 

“Because you missed him.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You could have gone out with him.”

 

“I did have some fun, Porthos, don't worry about that. With or without Aramis around. We may not have had the same definition of fun back then, you and I. But I do enjoy all of our dates together a lot more since we're going out. I enjoyed them before that, too, by the way. When I'd go with you to the park or when you invited me to the seaside during the winter.”

 

“Even if you were sick afterwards.”

 

“I got to stay with you for a few nights. Which was nice. To be pampered and taken care of.”

 

“You groped Aramis that time.”

 

“I did what?” Anne gasps and Porthos chortles.

 

“You were high on your meds that night. You woke us up and you decided we should all have stayed with you to keep you company. You groped Aramis, said he was hot and almost slapped me in the face.”

 

It's a fantastic, funny memory and Porthos never wants to let it go. One of the most hilarious moments he's spent with Anne, even though he was pretty pissed she was doing all of that in the dead of the night. Anne blushes strongly, though, up until he nudges her foot and his dimples shine on his face.

 

“You never told me that.”

 

“We didn't want to embarrass you. I figured now it's okay to tell you. You were adorable.”

 

“Never let me on those meds again, please.”

 

“On the contrary, I wouldn't mind a bit of groping this time around. I like it when you get bold and you want to get your hands on us. On me.”

 

Porthos says casually, sipping on his beer, watching her out of the corner of his eye. He slides around the booth so he finds himself next to her. She feels so ridiculously small beside him, which she loves. Never feeling trapped because he would never hurt her. He cares too much about her. And she likes the flirting.

 

“I really enjoyed last night with you,” Porthos says when he's so close to her he can touch her bare arm and Anne shudders. If he notices, he doesn't mention it. Just keeps on going and Anne looks up at him to find his face much closer than she anticipated. His smile and dark, deep eyes.

 

“The dancing? Or the sushis?”

 

“Both. But the dancing more. Because you were cute and I never wanted to let you go. And you're sexy when you dance.”

 

He grabs her hand and plays with her fingers, watches how she watches him. The pink on her cheeks and the blonde curls boucing around her face whenever she laughs. He kisses her cheek.

 

“You look very nice tonight. Very pretty. The most beautiful.”

 

One of his fingers grazes her shoulder and the strap of her dress. So tiny that it could not be there and it'd be the same. Porthos has no problem imagining the dress not on Anne anymore and looking at more smooth skin.

 

Anne giggles at the compliments, shows how much she likes that as well and it comforts Porthos. She's a bit stuck on what to answer but her body language is enough. He's getting to know her for that. Where Aramis would flirt back without second thoughts, she's more into thinking it. But Porthos is fine with it. Because she's not Aramis and it's another type of relationship he has with her. In the end, though, she does raise her eyes again and she sinks into his kiss. So that's okay.

 

Her body pulled to his and her hand clutching his hip and the long, slow move of their mouths together. Her little chuckle and sigh of happiness and Porthos' lips stretching against her. He wraps one arm around her waist, licks inside her mouth, tastes lipstick and orange juice and whatever fragrance Anne sprayed on her skin is enthralling.

 

The sight from the other side of the room is as captivating as being caught in that intimacy. Aramis can't help catching the kiss and smiling while he waits for their drinks. Anne is so lost in Porthos' arms, letting him kiss her to no end and he knows the feeling which can come over someone in this situation. He finds himself in it so often. Most days of his life. It's magical and Porthos is stunning in his care and his desire and Aramis wishes he could be with them and kiss his boyfriend, too. Only the bartender has so many orders to take, the drinks aren't coming fast enough.

 

“That's a bit weird, isn't it?” d'Artagnan asks Aramis, glancing at Porthos and Anne kissing. Aramis jerks his head towards his friend.

 

“How so? They're just kissing.”

 

“Yeah but he's your boyfriend.”

 

“He's hers as well.”

 

“When you put it like that.” d'Artagnan shakes his head, takes a long sip of his beer. He tries not to invade and not look too much but that's where Aramis is looking with no intention of ever stopping so it's proving difficult to ignore the display of affection. “I saw a movie once where there were three people dating. But I'd never heard of anyone actually doing it in real life.”

 

Aramis shrugs, finally gets his own beer.

 

“Because people don't go talking about it? I don't know. We're telling you because you're our friends but as far as everybody else is concerned, it's not their problem. It's working for us, and that's all that matters.”

 

“Yeah, I'm good with Constance.”

 

“She's enough work by herself, you mean?”

 

“Shush. You're looking for trouble talking like that,” d'Artagnan wipes his head to find his fiancée but she's focused on something else. Aramis chuckles. Grins when Porthos catches his eye above Anne's head before he goes back to their own private conversation. “It's a great party, Aramis. Thanks for helping organize it.”

 

“Anything for the both of you. You _are_ family after all. Are you still nervous?”

 

“Not today. I'll certainly be on the wedding day but....”

 

“That's why you have me to stop you freaking out.”

 

“I don't think I will. It's Constance and...”

 

“And you love her with all of your soul and heart,” Aramis finishes. “I know. I can't believe you're finally getting married. And that it's in a month.”

 

“I know, right? It's almost a dream. Surreal. Ouch! Son of a bitch!” d'Artagnan yells, surprised and beer spills on his shirt. He shakes his arm so that the pain of Aramis pinching him will go away. “What the fuck?”

 

“What? I was just making sure you weren't _in_ a dream.”

 

“Fuck you, Aramis.”

 

“Hey, listen. Will Constance be upset if we take off early?”

 

“No, but I'll be.”

 

“Haha. No, it's just that we told Flea who's babysitting Mati that we'd be back sometime around midnight and it's not that I don't appreciate you and I was kind of looking forward to going dancing but I..... I'd like to spend some time with them, just the three of us.”

 

“Yeah, it'll be fine. She's over the moon as it is. You go do whatever you want, Aramis.”

 

“Thanks, man.”

 

“No problem.”

 

But d'Artagnan's eyes are far off in the distance, focusing on Constance and how she's laughing with her friends. It's an intense look and Aramis feels so immensily happy for his friends to have reached this stage in their life and he just _knows_ , he'll be as emotional as them the day they do get married. Porthos will just have to hold his hand and hug him and Aramis will be content.

 

That and Anne on his other side. With the same laughing eyes she displays when he sets her pineapple juice on the table but she asks if she can steal some of his beer first instead.

 


	3. Anne, Aramis and Porthos

It's a frenzy in the bar when everybody is ready to go to the club where Constance intends to dance for as long as her legs will let her. With d'Artagnan whose hand she hasn't let go of for a very long time. It's also when Aramis decides to tell her that yes, he would have loved to join them, that they would all have loved to but really, does Constance need the three of them to have a great time on the dancefloor? Certainly not, she replies, hugging him tightly to thank him for what has been a very nice evening already.

 

Then she hugs Anne as closely, surprising her, even though Anne does hug her back strongly.

 

“Have fun, too,” Constance whispers, a bit too loud but there's too much effervescence for anybody else to hear it. Anne laughs. “Thanks for coming. And for telling me. I'm happy for you.”

 

Anne knows it to be sincere, because Constance's eyes are kind and honest even if a little unfocused. She's glad she's got d'Artagnan as her armpiece for the rest of the night. Anne is also glad she's got two of her own, despite only being able to use Aramis for the time being. He's holding hands with Porthos, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. He wants a cigarette but there are none at his disposal. He doesn't care much for Anne's frown when he mentions it yet he loves Porthos for offering a poor substitute.

 

“The best, kind of,” Aramis retorts then shudders in the sudden coolness of the street.

 

He was starting to fall asleep after a tasty dinner so it's waking him right up. That and walking with Porthos and Anne by his sides. That and checking the time to see that they still have hours to themselves before going back home.

 

“I thought you were all about nightclubs if you could, though.”

 

Anne's not complaining about the change of plans. She was the first one to agree when Aramis suggested it. Because her shoes aren't made for dancing and there's been enough socializing for the day, as far as she's concerned.

 

“I'm all about being with you, too,” he explains. “And we told Flea we'd be back so she wouldn't have to spend the night. Mati wasn't so much confused this morning but it's best if we keep a semblance of normalcy and we're there when he wakes up. Porthos and I.”

 

“Absolutely.” Her son before anything else. She doesn't suppose this will ever change. She's blessed the men also understand. “My place, then?” She says casually and Porthos grins at her. She can see it in the halo of the streetlamps they're passing.

 

Anne ends up sitting on Porthos' lap in the subway, for lack of room. Not that it is a hindrance to either of them. With his arm tight around her waist. The heat of his palm against the skin of her stomach even with the dress in between. The golden material glimmering whenever he brushes it with a finger and his lips on the nape of her neck. Not really moving unless he's talking to Aramis and when he does, it echoes against Anne. The best tickling sensation.

 

All of his wonderful compliments are swirling in her head. The things he likes about her. What he talked about earlier. The meaningless details that he somehow catches and which make Anne feel like she's cherished beyond words. The gallant way he holds doors open for her. And for Aramis. How Porthos glowers and then surrenders when, out of thin air and sheer luck, his boyfriend manages to get his hand on a cigarette and smokes it delightfully on the pavement, right under the windows of Anne's appartment.

 

She knows better than to waste her breath telling Aramis what she thinks of the bad habit. He knows her opinion very well and it won't stop him. So she gets to cuddle with Porthos while they wait for him to be done. With Porthos' chin resting on her shoulder. Feeling so light; he's holding his weight back. Anne clutches the arms wrapped over her stomach until she finds warm fingers to hold on to. She's so incredibly in love and it's so easy, in moments like this.

 

Not when Armais decides he wants to kiss them thank you for waiting and the taste of tobacco is so strong in his mouth that Anne pulls away, fighting not to look utterly disgusted. Porthos indulges, though. One hand grabbing Aramis' hair, dragging him deeper into the kiss and his own mouth. Licking Aramis' lips when he's satisfied.

 

Mere centimetres from Anne's face. From her captivated and expectant gaze.

 

“I've champagne you can wash your mouth with,” she offers, once again marveling at Porthos' impeccable manners as he holds the door of the building for her. He's such a perfect gentleman and she can't quite believe he chose to accept and love her.

 

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” It's a half-hearted complaint and Aramis certainly doesn't look like it'd bother him.

 

“You're not using my toothbrush, that's for sure.”

 

“I hope I don't have to smoke to get to drink some, too.” Porthos scrunches his nose, disliking the idea.

 

“Of course not. You even get to open the bottle.”

 

“Aren't you nice,” he jokes, the hint of laughter dying on his breath when she tip-toes to kiss him; without warning. Definitely welcome. Anne gets bolder when no one is around them. Another reason to ditch the soon-to-be married couple and all their other friends. Even Anne's eyes are smiling with delight when she lets him go. She loved kissing him in public at the bar, in plain sight. No more hiding so she wants to kiss him some more before the night ends.

 

Once inside, when shoes and jackets have been discarded, that phones have been set aside and that Aramis has claimed half of the couch for himself and his healing body, he gets to watch his boyfriend serve the champagne like the finest bartender. He's clearly missed his calling. Although he could have done better than the everyday glasses the alcohol is poured in.

 

“Hush and say thank you.”

 

“Thank you, sweetie.”

 

Aramis pulls on Porthos' tee-shirt after being handed his drink and Porthos almost stumbles upon him. He ends up half lying there. All of that for another kiss. Not that Aramis dislikes the precarious position. It gets better after his boyfriend has re-arranged himself and stretches his legs on Aramis' lap. Porthos _is_ a bit tired by all the running they did in the afternoon. Added to actual work in the morning, it wasn't the most laid-back day. He wouldn't trade it for anything.

 

Not when Aramis makes tiny noises of appreciation. Little purrs. Because of the champagne, of the candles Anne is lighting for a nice, softer atmosphere. Because of the quite around them and the smooth music she's selected. Because of Porthos so close to him. Silent and playing with his hair. Because Aramis doesn't want to move from this fantastic spot.

 

“I thought your legs hurt too much,” Anne remarks, settling close by in the only armchair there is in the living room and which is usually Mati's territory.

 

“Porthos is the best weight I want on me. I'd never hurt enough to push him away,” Aramis replies and Porthos tilts his head to kiss his boyfriend.

 

First on the corner of his mouth and then on the lips. Pulling him closer, pressing down perhaps but Aramis is correct: there has never been a day -or a night- when he's complained about Porthos on top of him. What ever the situation. And really, the pain is slowly fading into a memory now that Aramis wants to focus on happier things. It'll certainly awaken in the morning, which Aramis isn't looking forward to. Right now, though, it doesn't matter.

 

“I like being on top of you, too, cupcake,” Porthos breathes in his mouth.

 

“Isn't that a great coincidence?”

 

“Matchmade in Heaven.”

 

Porthos pulls on his boyfriend's lip in his sultry whisper, cupping Aramis' head and brushing a thumb along his jawline. Reveling in finally being completely alone after a busy day.

 

“You can stay on top of me for the rest of the night,” Aramis decides and Porthos hums against his mouth. “Minus the clothes.”

 

“Clothes are overrated.”

 

Aramis moans his approval, hanging on to a handful of Porthos' tee-shirt. That red shade that he adores and which makes Porthos' arms bulge when Aramis lays his hand on one of them, touching the skin so lightly it's almost like a feather and Porthos giggles because it tickles. So does Anne at the cute sound and Aramis jerks his head in her direction.

 

She didn't mind being ignored, all focused on watching them flirt and be in love. They make the best addition to her living room. They should come in and kiss for her eyes only more often. Porthos' fingers are absent-mindedly playing with the buttons of his boyfriend's shirt. Having a will of their own obviously, going through a well-known nightly routine. Anne is drawn to them as well. Thrilled by what they're saying, what they're doing.

 

What they're thinking about doing. She's thinking about it so much. All the time. It's getting a bit ridiculous sometimes but how she anticipates and desires each night when they get to be only the three of them. Without her sweet boy that she can't live without. But the men have awoken so many buried feelings she has a hard time feeling indifferent about. Anne feels hot already and they haven't been inside the appartment for more than fifteen minutes. Hot and flushed and they know what they're doing. Smiling back at her, still tangled in their embrace.

 

“I don't think I taste like cigarette anymore,” Aramis ponders, offering her his hand. “Do I?” Porthos thinks about it.

 

“You taste like....Zelda Fitzgerald. Champagne and smoke.”

 

“Wow. That has to be the best thing you've ever said about me!” Aramis marvels, wide-eyed and totally honest in his astonishment. He blinks and decides his boyfriend and his cheeky grin get to receive another kiss before Anne can have hers.

 

When she does, she can finally enjoy it to its fullest. The rub of Aramis' tongue not shying away from her mouth. Its eagerness and yet gentleness and how, somehow, Anne ends up where Porthos' legs previously were: on Aramis' lap. Straddling him precariously, holding on to Porthos' chest to keep her balance. Half on Aramis and half on Porthos actually and he knocks down some of the books which were on the coffee table when he accomodates her. Anne gasps and giggles against Aramis' chin before they settle into kissing again.

 

There's a hand on the small of her back so she will stay right where she is. Her straps, so thin they may break at any moment Porthos believes, have slid down her arms and her hair is mostly tumbling down her shoulders. Held away from her face by Aramis.

 

“See? Anne is already losing _her_ clothes,” Porthos jokes, but his voice has gotten deeper and she shivers at the fingernail chasing the escaping strap.

 

“I liked the idea,” she dares admit, looking at him through clouded eyes and Aramis' lips pressed to her cheek. Porthos' breath washes over both their faces when he leans closer.

 

“You are so good at flirting and from now on, you're not allowed to say you're rubbish at it.”

 

“Why would you say that?” Aramis chimes in. “Look at you. You're wonderful and I want to kiss all of you. You're perfect.”

 

“Maybe I want you to. I want you to,” Anne corrects herself, emboldened by Porthos' praise and refusal to accept what she confessed at the bar. That she wasn't cut out for teasing and sexy talk. That's Aramis' domain. It can be hers if she so wishes, Porthos had said, not that he minded if she didn't, because her being in his arms was already great. Her words right now make it greater.

 

Pressed that she is to Aramis, to him, sitting on his boyfriend, squirming to get comfortable, creating friction which is terribly welcome. With that and the delicate smile, the ragged breathing and both of her hands hanging on to Aramis' neck, Anne lets his fingers creep up her back. Making her skin tingle before he even touches it properly. Then he's gotten a hold of the zipper and even though it's the faintest sound, it's incredibly loud in the cozy and loaded atmosphere.

 

There's a pause in the music and Anne shudders against two sets of lips on her neck. Kissing down her collarbone. Sucking close to her pulse point. She feels it beat faster against the hot tongue on her skin. She tastes as exquisite as she smells.

 

Aramis' hand stills at the new rhythm coming from the speakers and he pulls back. His mouth shiny and his eyes dark while he studies the two others. Porthos looming above Anne, sitting up on the couch as she pushes to get to him. To his mouth and his kisses. Without realizing it. With her eyes closed and her cheeks flushing. Better than she was the first times they were intimate. The first times they only kissed. Being emboldened by their feelings for her, their desire. Her love. Aramis loves them so much. With his entire being. He _wants_ them so much.

 

“You promised you'd dance for me,” he suddenly remembers. The music has a faster beat even if it's not remotely close to salsa.

 

“We promised no such thing,” Porthos mumbles, too busy letting Anne explore his mouth.

 

“But I'm asking nicely and....I'd really appreciate it if you did. I might prove.....generous.” Aramis bites Porthos' ear, hears the low growl and feels the tremor in Anne's body when he slides his hand over her back.

 

Porthos breaks the kiss, glances at his boyfriend and his mischievous eyes, then at Anne and her eager eyes. At her dress.

 

“You could have chosen a better moment to remember that. Anne's almost out of her clothes already.” And he certainly wouldn't mind helping her get out of them right now.

 

“Then zip me back up,” Anne whispers, her lips lightly touching his and it makes Porthos shudder.

 

“That'd be a shame.”

 

He shakes his head yet forgets everything else when Anne's eyelids flutter rapidly and she leans in towards him again.

 

“You'll unzip it later,” she says softly and Porthos lifts her effortlessly so they're both standing again.

 

When they're both teaming up against him and that obviously Anne doesn't mind the request, there's nothing Porthos can do anymore. Besides, he loved dancing with her and it'll be even better without other people doing the same around them.

 

He pulls the zipper of her dress up carefully, gently moves her straps back up. Her skin has turned pinker, the only noticeable fact that she's enjoying what's happening. Until he notices the open mouth, the eyes intently focused on him and the dishevelled hair. Much better now than the hairdo she had on earlier. Anne holds on to his arms until she feels steady. Such strength under her fingers. She doesn't let go even when she wouldn't require his help.

 

“The things we do for love.” Porthos shakes his head one more time, grinning now. And yet in awe with Anne getting braver when it's only them and with Aramis always getting what he wants, one way or another.

 

“For sex, Porthos.” Aramis pushes against his boyfriend's ass with one bare foot that Porthos swats away. Aramis chuckles, settles comfortably in the couch, refills his glass and waits for his private show.

 

It's made of trial and errors at the beginning. Much laughter but throughout it all, Anne follows Porthos' lead and it quickly becomes flawless. She grips his bare arm, grips his tee-shirt and his hand and she crowds closer and closer. More than she did the previous night when they were in the actual dancing class. She apologizes the first and only time she trips on his leg. Then she steps on his foot because she was talking and not paying attention to her moves but she's not wearing heels anymore so they're good.

 

The music is enchanting and it's a blur of fast colors in the living room. Aramis doesn't miss a second of it. Transfixed that he is by their chemistry and the pure pleasure which irridiates in the soft candlelight. Anne trusts Porthos with all of her heart, only has eyes for him after he's urged her to trust herself and stop looking down.

 

“Look at me. Look. You're doing fantastic. You're beautiful.”

 

With his kind voice, its deep tones and his lips ghosting against hers when they're flushed together. Their legs touching and his hand so low on her hip that her dress is riding up a little, exposing more milky skin.

 

He tilts her chin up, pauses altogether in their dance to kiss her again. Both of her hands come to rest on his chest to feel his lungs heave and his heart thump. Because Anne in his arms moving like she is is dizzying. Her moves are close to perfection. Porthos will never let her say that she isn't talented after tonight. She's enjoying it, too. His closeness. Aramis' smile whenever she catches his eye. Porthos' tongue and his full lips and the heat of their embrace.

 

Then a new song begins, another rhythm and Anne takes a second to try to remember what they did the day before. Porthos has memorized most of what they've learned and he doesn't let her stay still very long. His fingers gliding down her arms to reach her hands fill her body with ecstatic sparks and she shivers. Gasps and smiles when he makes her twirl, flashing white teeth before he does it again. Her dress makes her look like the prettiest ballerina, Aramis decides and says so out loud.

 

He holds her gaze when Anne finds herself in that very position that she adored the day before, even though it wasn't the best with so many people watching and the instructor analyzing everything. With her back to Porthos' chest, his arm around her waist, squeezing much more than he did in her memory. His face almost in the crook of her neck, guiding her, making her move so very slowly and sensualy that Anne feels her breath catch and flames burst underneath her skin. With Porthos' hotness and Aramis who is watching them both as if he wanted to eat them alive.

 

With his mouth hanging open and stars in his eyes. Porthos is staring at him, too, above Anne's head. Aramis can't decide what is the most appealing. The way Porthos' hips move and rub against Anne, or how she responds and tries to keep up with the rhythm except she's clearly too caught up in what Porthos is making her feel to concentrate on the music.

 

She's panting when Porthos makes her twirl again and their foreheads touch. They're holding hands and he kisses her mouth, swallows her gasps for air and Anne needs more than his hands in hers to remain standing. Disregarding the dancing, she hangs on to his neck and she's thankful for her decision when Porthos circles her waist and brings her as close to him as he can. With her leg up over his hip and his hot palm on the skin of her bare thigh.

 

Anne stares at him for a good handful of seconds while the song is dying and the next one hasn't started yet. In the silence in between where all she can hear is her own ragged breathing and her heartbeat is filling her ears. She's hypnotized by Porthos' eyes and he doesn't have to say anything to show how much he wants her. His fingers on her thigh are smooth and he's showing no sign of ever letting her go. Not that she wants him to. She pushes herself up higher, closer, kisses him so fiercely that Porthos has no choice but let her.

 

She grabs the back of his neck, the hair there, pushes his face down and effectively rubs all of her against his chest. He groans around her tongue, surrenders to whatever she wants because he's hardly seen her take charge and he likes it. He lets her tongue invade his mouth. He lets her kiss him again and again and never pulls away even when Anne needs to breathe. Their lips are always touching. Even when she stumbles because Porthos suddenly drops his hand to grab her hip and she needs a moment to find her balance again.

 

Her thumbs on the back of his neck are soft and they clutch harder when he gropes for her dress, for that fateful zipper which decides to get stuck this time. Porthos grumbles with frustration, stumbles and almost brings them both down. Until Aramis comes to the rescue. He's having a difficult time doing anything with his brain because they were a sight to behold. The best way to finish up their dance. Heavy making-out and Anne so needy and greedy that he couldn't have stayed on the side for much longer anyway.

 

The zipper is pulled down easily and the entire dress puddles on top of Porthos' arms, stuck around Anne's stomach for the time being. Aramis chases the thin straps with his mouth, kisses every inch of Anne's shoulders and wraps his own arms around her chest. Just below her bra. Grazing the underside of her breasts and the sensitive skin there and Anne shivers. Again. Not from the cold. It's so hot between the two of them.

 

“I don't understand how it didn't finish like that last night,” Aramis marvels, his teeth on her neck, on her cheek. He feels the sharp intake of breath Anne takes before she turns her head to glance at him. Porthos' lips fall to the corner of her mouth. “I would have jumped on the both of you right over there if you did the same thing yesterday. You're hot.”

 

“You are,” Porthos concurs, staring at Anne, transfixed. Gasping for breath a bit.

 

“I'm much more comfortable with you as an audience than with strangers,” Anne pants.

 

Porthos lets go of her hips, the dress pools all the way down to the floor. And to Aramis' feet. Porthos brushes her hair away with one hand, explores the expanse of her back with the other and then finds his boyfriend's hair. Pulls him in for a kiss.

 

“I want you to dance for me all the time now,” Aramis decides, licking Porthos' lips, biting on one. “Best foreplay. I'm horny now.”

 

“You're not the only one.”

 

Anne is mostly naked in Porthos' arms now, visibly as excited by the dancing as he is and she's looking at the both of them with so much desire. Porthos untangles himself, takes off his tee-shirt and grabs two hands so the others will follow.

 

They all tumble on the bed, which creaks a little under the sudden weight, but all the weight that Anne cares about is Porthos on top of her. Wanting to remain as close to her as he can. His bare chest on her and his kisses and she wraps her legs around his waist without thinking twice about it. She likes the rough feel of the jeans on her skin. How he moves against her and the smooth skin of his back. She arches her back when he kisses lower down her neck and traces the edge of her bra with one lone fingernail. He pushes her down on the bed again, his hot crotch against hers and she sees stars everytime he does it again.

 

Anne becomes aware that the faint sounds that she hears are her own moaning. They only grow quicker when Porthos pushes himself lower yet again, to kiss her stomach and her heartbeat is so wild, the sounds muffled by Aramis' mouth. And his full palm on her bra. And her breast once Anne has managed to unfasten her bra.

 

“It's been a week and I've missed this terribly,” Aramis decides, licking his lips before he licks a nipple and Anne groans.

 

Only louder when he sucks on her breast and that Porthos pushes himself up so he can do the same to the other one. It's always too much when it's the two of them focusing on her and Anne thrashes a bit at the flat of a tongue on her nipple. On the tongue circling and then at the lips going to drop tiny kisses on the underside of her breast. Porthos' hot finger comes to touch her wet nipple and then he looks up at her with a grin and half closed eyes and Anne has to close hers. Her head falls onto the fluffy pillow and her foot rides up Porthos' hip. Rubbing against bare skin.

 

She buries a hand in Aramis' fluffy hair, holds on to the curls and it only urges him to be more eager. She tastes so great and she's welcoming so much so fast and she's not ashamed of much anymore and it's fucking fantastic to be in bed with her. In _her_ bed. In her home when they can be as loud as they can. It drives him to impossible heights and if he turns his head he can have the best view of how Porthos is grinding against her and how Anne is actually responding to it.

 

“Is there anything that you really, _really_ want?” Porthos asks, kissing along her jawline, still on top of her.

 

Aramis also stops what he's doing at the question, raising his head to look at her. Anne considers it, tries to focus on either of them but really it's quite an impossible task.

 

“There is something....,” she starts. It's the first time they're in her bedroom. The first time ever Porthos has actually set foot in her bedroom. But she's been thinking about that moment a lot lately. Ever since they've started dating. About what would happen in her bedroom and yes, there are things she really, really wants. She studies their faces, the heaving chests. Aramis who is still wearing all of his clothes and Porthos and his amazing abs. “I've been thinking about it quite a bit....”

 

“Is that so? Do tell us.” Aramis plays with a lock of her hair, puts it behind her ear and waits for the anticipated answer.

 

“I like.....watching you two together and I was wondering how it'd look on my bed.” Anne gets the words out in a rush. She closes her eyes for a second and finds them both staring at her with interest when she opens them again. Aramis is smirking and Porthos pushes himself up and off of her when he understands what her demand truly is.

 

“And I suppose we shouldn't only be kissing, should we?” Aramis inquires, obviously teasing her. His fingers run up and down her naked thigh.

 

“I like watching you do anything,” Anne replies, pushing herself up as well so she can sit up and give them more space. Aramis' face brightens at the boldness and honesty and he kisses her. Revels in her softness and the shyness which is slipping away from her shoulders so fast that he finds himself comforted in their relationship.

 

“I'm all to happy to oblige,” he says, shuffling to Porthos and losing no time unbuckling his boyfriend's belt.

 

Porthos is kneeling on the bed, groaning at Aramis' expert moves and his hands dipping in his jeans. Kneading his ass and then pushing the jeans down. So excited and impatient that by the time Porthos is naked, Aramis also is. Save for his underwear. Porthos gets a hold of his boyfriend's waist, grazes a finger over the waistline of the boxers and then cups Aramis' cock. Which results in some muffled swearing and a heated kiss. It continues even after Porthos has fallen back on the bed, bringing Aramis down with him. On top of him.

 

Porthos is already hard from Anne and how well she was responding to his rubbing earlier. From knowing that she's watching and that she's liking what she's seeing. She's given them the full bed, because like it or not, it's smaller than the men's and there was a good chance she would have gotten in the way of their sex. Which would have probably ruined the mood. Because as much as she wants to get involved and she was feeling wonderful only minutes before, it's surprisingly turning her on to watch them be together. Anne doesn't want to stop and ponder why. She just likes it. It makes her hot and it's one of the best feelings she's ever experienced and she won't apologize for it. Not that the men would let her. They're all to happy to oblige, like Aramis said.

 

So Anne has grabbed a light plaid and she's settled in her armchair. The one she uses when she wants to snuggle with a book. It serves a much better purpose tonight. To keep her warm while she enjoys _her_ show, although she wouldn't need it. Her entire body feels like it's boiling from the inside out.

 

Aramis is sprawled on his boyfriend, moaning to no end at the firm hands on his ass, pushing the underwear as far down as Porthos can so he can clutch the warm skin and also drag Aramis further into him. So that their cocks can brush together, in spite of the light clothing. And Aramis comes for greedy kisses. Flashing his tongue and attacking his boyfriend's mouth furiously. Groaning in Porthos' mouth at the grinding and his cock hardening at the pressure.

 

He drags his hand down Porthos' side, feels the shudders under his fingertips. Continues on his boyfriend's hard stomach. Bites on Porthos' lip and grins wickedly, using both of his hands to push against Porthos' chest. To tease hard and hot nipples and to lick the side of Porthos' jaw. All the way to his ear that he kisses so sweetly that it makes Porthos throw his head back onto the mattress and apply more pressure on Aramis' ass.

 

“How are we doing this? I've some ideas but all in all, I'd really like to stay right here and....ride you.” Aramis squirms and rests the flat of his tongue on Porthos' ear. Pets his hair softly, smoothing his boyfriend's forehead. Porthos has to close his eyes.

 

Instead of replying to Aramis, when he opens his eyes, he turns towards Anne who looks like a doe caught in headlights. But happy to have been caught. She shrugs, clutches her blanket and folds her legs on the armchair.

 

“It's great I can watch. You can do whatever you want.Anything you want.”

 

“I don't suppose you have any lube, do you?” Porthos asks, frowning even more and Aramis tuts yet finds the question more than valid. Porthos' cock hardens a bit more under the pressure when Aramis shifts so he can look at her as well. Hesitating that she is. She's obviously overlooked some details.

 

“I have.....lotion that you use if you want to tan but apart from that, I don't think I have anything really useful. Sorry.”

 

“No need. And no. Definitely not that.”

 

Porthos sits up, holding Aramis close, one arm loosely wrapped around his waist. Aramis locks one arm around his boyfriend's neck until they're both sitting cross-legged on the bed and Aramis is on his boyfriend's lap. So close there's hardly any space between their chests. Porthos' fingers are still deep in his underwear and he has no intention of claiming them back anytime soon.

 

“I really ought to carry some with me,” Aramis reflects, wiggling his eyebrows and Porthos chuckles. It allows him to catch a break amidst the heat of the situation. “Do you think they make travel-size bottles?”

 

“Kiss me, silly.”

 

Porthos slaps his boyfriend's ass playfully and Aramis squeaks, goes for a kiss indeed. His tongue invades Porthos' mouth greedily and somehow, Aramis doesn't feel in pain at all anymore when he manages to rock them both so that his boyfriend is once again flat on his back on the bed. The move makes their cocks grind against one another. An overpowering sensation and Aramis groans, the sound muffled by Porthos' lips. Porthos has grabbed his boyfriend's hair with strong fingers, keeping him right where he is, pushing his hips up to match whatever rhythm they're trying to establish. It kind of matches the music still playing in the other room.

 

“I'm afraid you're not coming close to my ass to play tonight,” Aramis rasps and pouts, looking at Porthos through the mess of brown curls falling on his face. He counteracts whatever little gasp was coming from Anne who is clearly trying to find a way to apologize. Why would she need to? “Nothing to fear though. I've some ideas about how you could come in me without fucking me. Like....I'm going to eat so much of you so fast, it'll be the...best orgasm you've ever had in your life. Yet.”

 

Aramis glances at Anne, winks and smirks at how she can't look away from him. From them. Mesmerized. She knows he's also talking to her, taking immense pleasure in saying the words and it's working on her.

 

Porthos chokes on his moan at his boyfriend's enticing suggestion. Does it once more when Aramis loses no time shuffling down to shower Porthos' chest with kisses. Light ones for a while, a long worship where he doesn't forget a inch of skin. Up to his boyfriend's nipples on which he lashes. With long strokes of his hot tongue, relishing in the feeling of them hardening in his mouth. Aramis strokes his hand up and down Porthos' side, warming his boyfriend's body, trying not to react too much to how Porthos is moving underneath him.

 

How he shivers when Aramis moves lower yet to tease and pay attention to Porthos' stomach. To the very sensitive skin. He traces each well-defined abs with his fingernails. With the tip of his tongue and he breathes in deeply. Taking in Porthos' lavish smell and the great taste of sweat on his stomach.

 

Aramis peppers small kisses all the way down to his boyfriend's crotch. Covering the top of his thighs, rubbing and warming the other one with a firm hand. Trying to keep Porthos from squirming, which he is attempting _not_ to do. But really, he knows what it feels like to have Aramis giving blowjobs and it's one of the best moments in Porthos' existence and how could he not be impatient? He thrashes at the surprisingly timid tongue on his cockhead. Arousing him furthermore. Aramis is humming around him, taking his sweet time, knowing exactly what he's doing. Glancing up every once in a while to see if it's getting the expected response.

 

Porthos is watching, propped on his elbows because that's much more fun. To hold Aramis' gaze while he's going down on him. To see the pink tongue lapping at his cock. Sucking the tip and then licking the entire length of his hardened cock. Twitching in Aramis' grasp. In his mouth. Hot and wet and his lips are moving so quickly around Porthos that he's growing dizzy. He has to fist the sheets to keep some control over his body. Aramis bobs his head fast then slows down and licks the full length of the cock again, ending by suckling the tip. Little licks. Rapid and intense and his hand closes around the base of Porthos' cock. Grazing the hairs, tickling, jerking him. He continues to do so while he swallows Porthos once more. Using his teeth just enough to please his boyfriend.

 

Biting his lip, Porthos has to breathe in through his mouth. There's so much lust and sexy in Aramis' eyes. He's hardly blinking when he curls his tongue and lashes out. Ridiculously taking his time to the point that Porthos has to curse and beg him to stop it. Which has the opposite effect. Aramis keeps on licking in short, leisurely strokes before he moves to grazing the underside of Porthos' cock. His fingertips are like feathers on the aroused skin. It's driving Porthos insane and yet there are such wonderful, magnificent feelings to have that he can't complain. It's like a fire burning in his insides. One that hurts a bit because it's never enough and it feels like it's never going to end or reach sufficient amplitude. But one that Porthos enjoys immensily.

 

Aramis' lips move lower so that his hair starts to tickle his boyfriend's stomach. Porthos is too caught up in what's happening to him to remotely be bothered by it. If anything, it adds to his overall sensations. The locks of hair on his skin and Aramis' mouth directing its attention to his balls. As carefully as his hand is stroking his cock. Tiny pecks from wet lips and then he speeds things up. Without warning. Earning himself some colorful language from Porthos. Aramis chuckles and the sound rumbles against his boyfriend, making him swear more.

 

Aramis swirls his tongue around his boyfriend's balls. One at a time and when Porthos remembers to spread his legs a bit more, bending one to accommodate Aramis, he gets rewarded with more fingers eager to please him. Aramis maps out the excited skin, swallows it, kneads it. Porthos wriggles, feeling incredibly too hot. There's a pause when Aramis breathes in and out loudly, only to return to sucking on Porthos' balls. With great noise and appreciation. As if it were excellent candy. Loving the taste. Loving the taste of precome gliding in his throat when his lips are back on Porthos' cockhead. Twitching inside of Aramis. Pulsing and Porthos starts to writhe even more at his boyfriend teasing his balls, teasing lower towards his ass. All the while blowing him and showing no sign that he's ever ready to stop.

 

What makes him still, what makes them both still is the noise coming from outside of their bubble. The loud and strangled moan which comes from Anne, that they hadn't forgotten because it's much more erotic to think that someone is always watching, but that they have learned to accept so they can carry on with their own love-making without having to always include her. She's been including herself quite all right already. Aramis pauses at the sudden sound and tilts his head in her direction. Porthos groans at the lack of mouth on his cock and then at the pressure of Aramis' hand on it. Covering it all. He looks her way as well, blinking and forgetting not to thrust his hips into Aramis' hand. He receives no complaints and Aramis keeps on stroking him, marveling at the beautiful sight Anne is giving them.

 

With the plaid halfway off her shoulders, hanging over the armchair, swinging right above the floor. With her long hair falling on her shoulders, all the way to the top of her breasts. With her breasts heaving, in plain sight for them to admire. Pink nipples and beautiful white skin. With her legs spread just enough and one hand down between them. Because it's not possible to ignore such a spectacle. They're everything she would have expected and she's started to slide down from the armchair, eyes flutering close more often than not yet fighting with herself to keep on watching. Porthos' stare is drawn to her fingers in her gorgeous, surely very expensive underwear. How unashamed she is of touching herself and really, if the lace wasn't there anymore, if it pooled on the floor like the rest of her clothes did, it'd be better. To be able to see more than the outline of her hand. To see her bare fingers on her pussy and how wet it must be. How much pleasure they're giving her by having sex.

 

“Aramis....,” Porthos groans, nudging his boyfriend's shoulder. His cock hasn't been unattended while they were admiring her but doing so has magnified all that Porthos is currently feeling. Imagining that he could be the one touching Anne. The one with his hand or his mouth or even his cock between her legs is too much. For him and also for Aramis apparently.

 

“That's hot, isn't it, Porthos?” He looks up, finds his boyfriend's head thrashing everytime he strokes his long and big cock and Aramis gives it one tiny lick just to test. Porthos moans, grabs Aramis' shoulder and holds of for his life and for the blood in his veins boiling from the heavy taste of sex in the room.

 

“Make me come, cupcake. Please.”

 

Aramis grins at the request, needs to grant it. He's grabbed his own cock through his underwear, clutching and rocking a bit against the bed. He's so hard as well. From the taste of Porthos in his mouth, for all his glistening skin whenever he looks up. For the smoothess on his cock against his tongue and the sounds of Anne enjoying herself and them. It makes it easier to concentrate. To know for a fact that she is loving what she is seeing. That _they_ have this effect on her and that she has one of her own on them, too.

 

He swallows Porthos' entire cock without stopping, without hesitation, swirls his tongue and moves his head so quickly, letting the length rub against the inside of his cheek. He withdraws once to breathe, warm air landing on Porthos' wet cock and when he's going down again, the flat of his tongue first, Porthos' fingernails dig into his shoulder. Aramis hardly relaxes, hardly slows down. He lets his boyfriend come and pet his hair at the same time. Never grabbing. Never pulling. Letting Aramis swallow everything and come back up to him in his own time.

 

With lips shining, meeting Porthos' and his ragged breathing.

 

“You blew my mind, too, this time,” Porthos says in a gasp.

 

His chest heaves under Aramis' hands. His body is shuddering under the weight of his boyfriend. Porthos wraps one sweaty arm around Aramis' waist, hugs him fiercely. Aramis giggles, satisfied, too. For the time being. Until Porthos gropes and fondles the clear outline of his cock trapped in his underwear. Straining underneath the fabric. Aramis arches his back, pushing against the hand on the small of his back and helps Porthos pull the boxers down. Then he kicks them out of the way.

 

Porthos' fingers are scorching hot yet delicate when they close around his cock. Stroking casually because there's not much more he can do for now while he hasn't yet recovered from his orgasm. Holding his boyfriend in his arms, as close and tangled as they can be, it's enough for now.

 

Not for Anne who is blessed with such fantastic scenes that she is sure she is quickly losing her mind. For the greater good. Because they are incredible together, these two men, and she feels on fire herself. Even though they are an amazing distraction and that she finds her own satisfaction in simply watching, she also feels that dull pain which never wants to spread to all of her body and which makes her ache. Aramis' piercing eyes set on her are not helping. Or they are. She has no idea anymore. All she wants is to keep on feeling what it does to her to watch them have sex with each other.

 

She heaves out when all of a sudden, Aramis has sprung from the bed to crowd her space. Kissing straight on the lips with the same tongue and the same mouth which were on Porthos' cock only minutes before. Anne scrambles for his neck and sighs for his hand on her breast, rubbing the hard nipple. For his hand covering her own between her legs, stilling her for now. She bucks her hips anyway. He's not moving anymore but he's applying pressure and it's not coming from herself anymore. It's much better coming from him.

 

“Did it live up to your expectations?” Porthos asks softly before he kisses her cheek, kisses her mouth when Aramis draws back to let him. Anne gets lost in the depth of his darkened eyes and the glow of his face after his orgasm.

 

“Next time I'll be better prepared, though,” she manages to promise before Aramis gets busy sucking on her breast and she's pushing herself against him. Against his eagerness and his fingers grazing her inner thigh. Grazing the lace of her underwear. So wet already. So enticing.

 

“You're so hot, wanting to watch us like this,” Porthos admits because it's doing things to him he would have never imagined. He could feel himself grow hard again in a few minutes if she demanded that they do it again. That much. “It makes me want to stay in this room with you forever and do just that. Have sex for your eyes.”

 

“That's a thought to consider,” she tries to say cheekily but it's close to impossible to concentrate with them both focusing their attention on her. “Did it....did it live up to yours?”

 

“My what?”

 

“Your....expectations? God, Aramis.....” He bites again on her nipple, ever so lightly but she must be liking it. That and Porthos' fingernails grazing the underside of her breast. Porthos chuckles at her question.

 

“I live for Aramis' blowjobs. And you're about to get a taste of his tongue right about now.”

 

Porthos kisses her hard, his tongue diving into her mouth, swirling around hers and her hand closes on his shoulder. Looking for an anchor as Aramis has decided to get her out of her underwear. His tongue laps at her breast one last time before he licks lower on her stomach. Around her bellybutton and along her hips. Anne keens at the skilled fingers on the wetness between her legs. Teasing and rubbing.

 

At the hot tongue and how it sucks on her clit so expertly that she has to push herself against him even more. Nothing Porthos does to keep her safe in place can work. It's like magic. Aramis' beard on her smooth skin and his mouth kissing. His tongue licking and the pads of his fingers gliding. Touching. Rekindling the fire underneath Anne's skin which had never truly died down.

 

Porthos tilts her chin up to kiss her again. He swallows her little moans and he can feel her entire body shake on the armchair. It's making him hot again, too. To watch Aramis go down on her and he understands how she felt while watching them both on the bed. Aramis is so spectacularly sexy. Giving so much. Moaning against Anne's pussy as he drinks in her scent and that his tongue fucks her. Porthos can definitely get aroused again within minutes. It's like he's a teenager again.

 

He captures Anne's hand in his before it starts to pull and push on Aramis' hair too much.

 

“Don't do that to him,” he explains, which is enough for now. Porthos contemplates the fingers laced with his, considers Anne and the look of pure pleasure of her face. How much he adores being with her in this bedroom. Being with her and Aramis and making one another feel good and perhaps it's not the proper moment or place to thank God yet really, Porthos can't think of a more appropriate time. Life is so perfect.

 

“Do that instead,” he adds, putting Anne's hand on her breast and squeezing. Anne's eyes open and her lips rest on his as she pauses their kiss. There's so much want, so much lust in his eyes and her mind surrenders to her own pleasure and she stops thinking altogether. Her hand stays on her breast when Porthos lets go to clutch her waist.

 

In an effort to be as close to Aramis as she can, Anne wraps her legs around his neck, pushing against his back with her feet, her thighs on his shoulders and Aramis groans against her. He grabs his cock because she's too much. Writhing and so bold. Enjoying this as much as he is and he looks up to look at her. To see Porthos kissing her. So messily that Aramis can see their tongues shining and how they nibble on each other's lips. He sees Anne's warm palm on her breast, rubbing. He sees Porthos' grip on her hip yet everytime she thrashes because of him going down on her, it drives her pussy deeper onto Aramis' mouth. His own tongue, lips and kisses. Her clit hard in his mouth and he likes the tiny moans Anne draws when he gives it little licks. Playing, gauging, teasing. Too much so that Anne can't avoid but push his head down against her once again.

 

Aramis stops everything he's doing.

 

“I love you but don't do that. Please.” Aramis rocks back on his heels, pulling away from her. Fighting for breath and shaking his head. “Don't make me suffocate.”

 

“I didn't mean to.” Anne struggles for her own breath, missing the pressure between her legs. Missing his presence and his warm ministrations.

 

“It's okay. Now you know.....and I believe you'll be better on the bed.”

 

Aramis pushes himself up, shivering from desire, his hand still on his hard cock. In the respite it's a torture not to be touched by any of the others. To not touch any of them. Anne hesitates for a second, looking at him, wondering what she could do to make amends. She knew it and yet she did, because Aramis was working magic and she's ruined it.

 

“I'm sorr....”

 

“Nope. I'm not hearing that. Come here.”

 

Aramis holds his hand out and Anne is flushed against him after Porthos has released her. She's shaking in his arms, melting in his kiss and his hand in her hair. Then he swears at her fingers on her cock. Coaxing it back into full hardness. His heartbeat is under control but growing wild under her eagerness.

 

Anne tilts her head to accommodate Porthos' teeth dragging alongside her shoulder.

 

“We're learning to know each other and really....ugh....You're so pretty that you'd be forgiven already if there was....ugh....anything to forget in the first place. You're so much better than you think, Anne.”

 

Aramis chases after her mouth and rests his cheek against hers. Her strokes on her cock are getting stronger and daring. He's loving it. His hand travels down her side, grazing the skin lightly, touching Porthos once in a while and Aramis receive a quick kiss on the top of his head. Porthos smiles in his hair, smoothes his palm down his boyfriend's back, trapping Anne between them. He gives Aramis' ass a squeeze, feels him buck his hips with each stroke from Anne.

 

Aramis' knees are growing weak because now that his head knows he's out of any danger and he can dedicate all of his heart to his boyfriend and his girlfriend again, he's stumbling under their attention. Falling flat on the bed, groaning at Anne pressed to him and Porthos, too, for a short moment before he rolls over and Aramis can breathe a little better now. He shifts to let Anne lie by his side, her hand still on his cock and her gaze anything but shy. Or remorseful.

 

She arches her back at his hand ghosting over her chest and her stomach once again. Hovering without really touching completely. Driving her to new heights. Porthos' lips are a new constant on her skin. His nose nuzzling. Light and soft in her neck. His sneaking tongue, too. Sucking on her pulse point. Hot and wet and Anne moans, grabs a handful of his hair to keep there, because with him she can. She moans loudly at Aramis' fingers dipping low between her legs again, resuming what he was doing earlier. Even letting her prop her thighs on his shoulders because she liked that and Aramis certainly doesn't mind being mandhandled like that. He's the one stroking his cock now that she can't anymore. Warm from her touch and enjoying her noises and her erratic moves.

 

Aramis can feel her become wilder in her actions and his lips are glossy with her wetness when he hauls himself up to study her beautiful face.

 

“I can make you come with those, too, if you wish,” he whispers, brushing his mouth to hers and Anne very nearly loses it. They're all too intense and nothing she could have ever imagined could hold up to the reality of the men naked and in bed with her. In her bedroom. Aramis draws back just enough to watch the pink of her tongue chasing after the kiss that she wants. He licks her bottom lip, draws back again, hears the sharp intake of breath at his fingers on her clit, never stopping. Her leg has fallen to his hip. His cock so close that Anne can feel its warmth on her skin. Awakening such a deep craving.

 

Anne shakes her head, shivers at Porthos' hand tracing patterns between her breasts. She can also feel him harden against her side. Again. Porthos can't help but react to Aramis luscious words pouring out of his lips. Along with all that he is doing with them. And Anne is so soft, so open in his arms. Porthos believes this is Heaven. Or close to it.

 

“Make love to me, Aramis.”

 

The second the words are out, Anne wants it a thousand times more than she desired it while the men were together. Because the way Aramis' mouth closed around Porthos' cock made for a nice visual of what she imagined for herself and now they're so close to one another, Aramis practically lying on her without holding his weight back, that it's all that she can focus on.

 

Aramis finally gives her the kiss she so much wanted and he glances at Porthos after they're done. To find him aroused by the anticipation of what's to follow. Aramis has been wanting this for so long. Ever since they started dating again. Ever since he kissed her back at the museum. Ever since she got into bed with them. Even since she first got naked with them. Ever since she started trusting them and going for all that her heart and her body desired. He wants it so much that the mere words are almost too much to handle. But he's been in control of himself for so long already, in this bedroom that he breathes in and out deeply, can't tear his gaze away from her face.

 

She's gorgeous and she puts so much trust in them. Her arm still wrapped around his neck and her thigh shuddering under his touch when he shoves it lightly. She closes her eyes at the fingers inside of her, filling a void for a while. Her moan swirls around Porthos' head who has to watch. He understands why she loves watching them. It makes him picture more things for the future and he bites his lip, grips his cock when Aramis's cock pushes inside of her.

 

Aramis does so with a long guttural groan, letting her adjust and kissing her moans away. Liking the foot rubbing against his ass and how she squirms underneath him to get him moving. She's hot inside and out and so wet for him, from them. Matching his grunts and how his hips drive her deeper onto the mattress. Suffocating her yet loving it. His sweet and beautiful Anne and all that she is offering him. Her warmth and her love and the hand roaming his back, fighting to get a grip somewhere and hold on for dear life.

 

He's big and it's been so long for her that as his cock rubs so perfectly inside of her she wishes it could last forever. It feels like every time he draws back he goes back in deeper. Knocking her breath out. Making her heart thump and her breasts rub against his chest. Anne is also faintly aware of Porthos who is still by her side. Restless. Dropping open-mouthed kisses to whatever part of her body he can reach. Watching how her fingers get lost in his boyfriend's curls. How Aramis' hair bounces everytime he dives into her. How she's careful in the midts of it all. Watching the sweat on his boyfriend's back. The muscles and yes, the bruise which will definitely take on a less nicer hue later on. It makes Porthos giggles in spite of everything. Not that Aramis seems in much pain for now.

 

His cock long and slick, shining from Anne and making Porthos thirsty. Hungry. Wanting to touch them both.

 

Anne gasps at Porthos' fingers creeping down her stomach, playing with the hairs between her legs. Tickling yet pleasing. And then they close on her clit, they circle it. Rub it, wet from so much excitement already. With Aramis' cock inside of her, slowing down only to come back with more force and make her pant with pleasure, and with Porthos' fast fingers, she can't even voice anything anymore.

 

This is, and she is so sure about it, the best orgasm of her life. Yet. Aramis was so right. She grips one hard shoulder and one muscular back, traps them both against her to let the tide of bliss and satisfaction wash over her. Painfully and then spreading under her skin, ablaze and tingling with the buzz of all the sensations taking over her. Because neither of the men stop for a second for the sake of her coming. If anything, Aramis goes faster and it makes her orgasm last longer. And Porthos' fingers may slow down, they still stay between her legs, tapping lightly and that's where they belong, Anne decides.

 

“Do you want me to....,” Aramis starts but she doesn't let him finish.

 

“Don't you dare.” She secures both of her feet on his ass and he would chuckle if the sound didn't get stuck in his throat. She's too much. Looking at him with fierceness and yet love and tenderness.

 

Aramis buries his face in her shoulder, mouths at her and it stifles his howl when he comes. Porthos' hand is firm on the back of his neck, massaging. A sure presence. Always. Aramis kisses him when he raises his head, struggling to breathe. Shuddering in his orgasm. Anne keens and misses him the second he's given her space and rolled over to lie by her side. But he snuggles with her, folds one arm over her stomach and she can listen to the rhythm of his heart in the silence.

 

Peaceful and only punctuated by their breathing. Anne's chest is heaving, her stomach feels light and she hasn't felt that way in years. In forever maybe. This is much better than she expected. Much better than what she remembered of Aramis, from these seven years ago. Not that she remembers much of that particular night. But he's just created some new memories that she will definitely hold on to. Him and Porthos who buries himself on her right so he can hold Aramis's arm and then play with his fingers. Right there on the bare skin of her stomach. Giving her goosbumps despite feeling hot and crowded by their heat yet again.

 

“Good?” Aramis eventually asks. It's more of a rasp as he watches her curl a lock of her hair around a finger. He sighs when she pets his hair. Softly. With care. A sufficient answer.

 

“You blew my mind,” she confesses and Porthos laughs. Kisses her cheek.

 

“He does that, yeah.”

 

Aramis beams with pride and joy, curls his toes.

 

“I'm thirsty,” Anne says.

 

“You worked out quite a sweat,” Porthos jokes, finding strength somewhere to leave her side to hurry to the living room.

 

Both Anne and Aramis are leisurely watching him come back, stark naked, with his enticing cock and all of these muscles that they can never get enough of. Anne is so incredibly lucky and it's making her dizzy. That and Porthos sinking on his knees in front of her after she's sat up. So he can hold the bottle of champagne to her lips and make her drink. A few drops land on her neck and he chases them down, sucking on her skin. He goes back up to her lips and Anne goes for his waist, hugging.

 

She's tired all of a sudden, esctatic at the same time. Thrilled and hyped and she never wants to let any of them out of her sight. They could stay here all night long. They should.

 

Except that they can't, how ever much the men want it as well. To cuddle with her, to caress and be caressed and to listen to all the things that Anne has to tell them. The questions that she has. About what they like, about all that she wants to learn about them in bed. A honest question that Aramis drowns out because it's much better to show her than to simply state it. And they'll have so many, many more nights to explore each other's bodies and for Anne to learn to know them as much as Aramis and Porthos already know one another.

 

So tonight, for the short time they have left, Aramis clutches his boyfriend's waist, entwines their legs together and listens to Anne shuffle so she can get comfortable under Porthos' other arm. So she can rest her head on his chest, on his heart and float in the memories of their fantastic, mind-blowing night.

 

 


End file.
